


A Siren's Court

by lucycamui



Series: A Siren's Call [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pirate!Victor, Romance, Siren!Yuuri, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: With the conflict between sirens and humans escalating,The Makkachin'spirate crew struggles in their fight against the spreading knowledge of sirens' weaknesses and the growing desires of humans to possess them. As Victor and Yuuri attempt to make peace from within the royal court, solutions sometimes come from the most unexpected of places...





	1. Into War

**Author's Note:**

> Volume Two, the sequel to [A Siren's Call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657330/chapters/33624693). Updates every three weeks.

“If you’ve got the guns and guts to spare, I need more hands on deck!”

Mila’s voice, strained by the exhaustion of an exigent fight, boomed down the stairs and flooded the gun deck. The ship rocked with the force of another cannon blast, and overhead the wood screamed with the weight of unfamiliar boots. She was barely holding. 

Guang Hong dodged between men and weapons, tripping in his haste to get powder to the gunners. To his left, one cannon had been left disabled with bodies slumped over the barrel, both flesh and metal torn to pieces. A gunner knocked against Guang Hong’s shoulder as he raced up to meet Mila’s call, only for a gunshot and shout to echo moments after. 

“Should we—”

“Load the cannons.”

Guang Hong’s hands, already stained black with soot, shook as he poured gunpowder into the loading parchment. His fingers fumbled on the corners, his heart choking in his throat, and the prepared packet was snatched from his hands the moment it was ready. Steps to the right, another gun crew ignited their priming powder and fired a blast. 

Smoke burned Guang Hong’s lungs and stung his eyes, his balance rocked by the pitching of the ship. The ocean had been steady, up till the moment they had intercepted a ship that had been sailing straight toward them. They had met it expecting to take it for supplies, only to be ambushed by an aggressive crew. They had been riddled by fire without warning, and boats had been sent out to disable the rudder and swarm their decks as they scrambled for cover. The only saving grace was the distance left between the ships, sparing them from the worst of the cannon blasts. 

Rope no longer left welts in Guang Hong’s hands, calluses having grown to bridge against the burn. He yelled as he helped heave on the gun tackle, their crew running out the cannon until it jammed in place. Otabek sparked the powder. The force of the blast knocked a pressure wave into Guang Hong’s chest, the cannon jerking back with recoil. From outside the gun port and the deck above, the melded voices turned to roars. A shadow flashed, the pattern of wings cast across the water. 

No—

“Freckles!!”

Guang Hong’s arm was yanked and he was forced back, stumbling. Something jagged collided with his temple, stinging, and when he blinked through his shock, the lashes of his left eye captured tiny beads of blood. 

Men clad in drab colors poured down onto the gun deck, pistols in hand, blades at their sides. Minami had jumped atop the sailor who had tried to swipe a sword at Guang Hong, jamming a knife into his jugular. Red sprayed the cannon behind them, the sailor collapsing dead onto the wood. 

“Go, get out of here!” Minami shouted, launching himself at another sailor. That man’s gun was torn from his hand before he had even raised it, and Minami fired the bullet through his skull. 

The positions at the cannons had been abandoned. Otabek locked swords with a sailor twice his size, Minami darting away to help him. Before him, a powder monkey dropped, bleeding from a gunshot in the center of his chest. The smoke from the cannonfire was dissipating, but Guang Hong couldn’t breathe. 

They had been sailing for a fortnight and encountered two other attacks, though those had been quelled quietly—one by force and one by a siren’s voice. Their ship was being hunted and, this time, they had been snared. Guang Hong couldn’t stay here. He had to run, he had to get up on deck.

Guang Hong bolted, taking advantage of the battle now raging on the gun deck. He ducked around Yuri as the blond reamed a sword through a soft stomach and shouted something at his back. Guang Hong didn’t hear the words, his ears ringing with the uproar of battle. He took the steps two at a time and when he emerged beneath the cold blue sky, he saw chaos. 

The pirate crew was struggling to hold back the wave of men off what they had thought was a merchant ship. The main deck was strewn not only with bodies, but with limbs. He had never been witness to so much red, so thick and dark, like the liquid paints his family had kept in glass jars in the manor’s study. He had to bite back tremors when he saw the corpse of a deckhand, a boy only a year his senior, barely recognizable as half of his face had taken the brunt of a fired grapeshot. 

Guang Hong’s shoe snagged on someone’s arm as he wove across the deck, shaking out an unheard apology to its former owner as he slammed against the railing. The waves beneath stirred with anger, agitated by the firefight, and the ocean pulled more dead into her clutches. 

From the sky above, Mari dove screeching at the enemy ship, but one of her wings was still bent and her path unsteady. Her commands would fall upon deaf ears. Guang Hong had seen the wax the others were using to mute their hearing, prepared for the tricks of a siren. 

Guang Hong’s vision blurred as more smoke filled the air between the ships. Mari twisted away in midair, scarcely escaping the spread of a silk net fired toward her. She caught the edges within her talons, pitching it into the sea. However, she seemed weary of drawing closer and turned back toward the pirate ship, taking out two men on the quarter deck. Even the siren was at a disadvantage with an injured wing and a voice rendered near useless. They were running out of time. 

His head was dizzy but Guang Hong shook himself clear, forcing himself to focus. The distance between the ships was approximately equal to the length of their foremast. Guang Hong knew the dimensions of their ship and he could calculate the angle from their guns to the deck of the opposing ship. His mind whirled and the lines he visualized connected. He had it. 

Spinning around, Guang Hong yelped as the tip of a sword took aim at him. He dropped, pushing himself off the railing, and sliced at calves as he dodged past. Running gunpowder below deck and living in the confines of the sleeping quarters had made him nimble. He kept the knife Leo had gifted him in hand as he sprinted back, the blade wet for the first time. 

Below, the brawl had calmed but the crew was not at the cannons. Another gunner lay lifeless, slumped against a wall, and at their station Yuri was tying fabric torn off his shirt as a tourniquet for Otabek. Guang Hong counted six men still strong and stable on their feet, enough to run a cannon. He nearly crashed into a barrel of powder, gasping past the burning lack of oxygen in his lungs. “Do we have split shots?”

Otabek frowned. “We’re too far, we won’t hit their masts.”

“Not the masts,” Guang Hong said, pointing through the porthole. “The hull. If we pull back the cannon from the bulwark, we can hit the hull right at the water’s edge.”

“If we pull it back, the tackles may snap.”

“If we don’t, we’ll never pull the tackles again.”

Otabek paused, but only for a moment. Rising to his feet, he called commands. “You heard the boy! Load split shots and pull back from the bulwark. How far?”

Guang Hong quickly checked the wooden flooring. “One plank should do.”

“Pull back a plank and ready to fire!”

Those injured and those spared charged to their stations. The barrels of the cannons were swabbed clean to extinguish any embers left burning from prior shots. Parchment cartridges were filled with powder and canvas wads were loaded in by the gunners before the split shots were rammed in. In all, with strong hands and weak, they managed to run out three cannons side by side, each hanging back from the bulwark. 

Guang Hong rechecked the angles, nodded his head, and prayed. 

Three explosions rocked the ship and the bodies on it, one right after another. All three hit their marks, reducing the hull of the apparent merchant ship to fragments. It sat still in the water for a breathless second and then the ocean filled it, greedy. 

Within the minute, the ship was gone and all seemed still.

The triumphant call of a siren echoed from above them. Swords went clattering and pistols quieted. 

As part of the gun crew flew to help the wounded amongst them, Guang Hong emerged onto the main deck. The aftermath of a battle was always unsettling. Their previous encounter with a challenger had ended in celebration, an easy win aided by Mari’s voice. There was no hint of elation here. 

Only a few men still struggled against defeat but they were quickly overcome. It seemed that once Mari had emerged, those who had attempted to overtake the pirate vessel had been swiftly put to rest. A body in a quartermaster’s uniform had its chest ripped out, ribcage and heart missing. Mari had landed at the helm and was attempting to rip netting from her injured wing, refusing to accept the help being offered. Emil quickly left her, rushing to aid those in more dire need. 

At the center of the ship stood Mila, her sword at her side and a new divet in her leg. “Sound off!” she called, and, one by one, voices rang out. They stopped far sooner than was usual. She turned, scanning the ship. Her eyes settled over his head. “How did you do that?”

A hand gripped Guang Hong’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, Otabek having come up to report the numbers lost below. Instead of answering her, he nodded toward Guang Hong.

The gaze of all those in proximity turned to him. Guang Hong offered up a weak smile, no strength in his shoulders left to shrug. “I, uhhhh… I read something similar in a Silverlock book…”

Behind him, he heard Yuri scoff but Otabek slapped his back in compliment. Mila’s expression remained grim, though she did arch an eyebrow. “Whatever works. All right, no time to spare. Aid those injured and assess damage. We’ll take no prisoners here today.” As she walked by, her wooden leg fell heavily. She paused at Guang Hong’s side, giving him a moment’s regard. “Good work, sailor.”

“Aye, captain,” Guang Hong accepted the praise. He only wished he had thought of it sooner. 


	2. Heir Apparent

The first time Victor had sailed back into the capital’s harbor, he had been conflicted. Sailors talked of their love of the sea sparring with the longing to set their boots on steady ground. The sight of land promised a hearty meal and a firm bed, drink unstale and perhaps a flight of love, both old and new. Victor had wanted none of those things. The freedom of the open ocean had called to him still, pushing the wind through his cropped hair and salting his skin. A decade prior, he had stood on the bow of the Queen’s greatest naval ship and wanted only to witness pride in her eyes upon his return. For all that had changed, so much remained the same.

Now, he did at times want for a good meal in port, but the bed in his cabin was firm enough and he made sure to keep fresh the rum and wine aboard. As for love, he was hardly lacking.

As the coastline grew closer, Victor smiled at the gasps he heard behind him, heavy footsteps falling away to part for soft ones. More ships came into view, bearing slack sails but pregnant bellies. The cool morning mist obstructed the shapes of the towers at either side of the harbor, keeping watch and keeping wary of pirates like him. To be welcomed in would surely cause an upset, inside the royal court and out. 

Fingers settled on his shoulder and a chirp sent joy sparking up his spine, the feeling foreign on a navy ship. Victor turned his head and, at his side, Yuuri smirked with accomplished pride. Feathers bloomed from the markings on his face and limbs, and his nails were formed into talons. The red tint of his temper was fading from his eyes, returning them to a deceptively sweet sugar-brown. “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

“I was trying to be polite,” Yuuri answered, his hand sliding down Victor’s back and dropping. 

Their fingers bumped and Victor instantly laced them together. 

The weather had been favorable, the sea kind, and the wind giving. Six weeks they’d spent in the hospitality of the navy, regarded with the suspicion of prisoners but forced to be treated with the generosity of guests. There were restrictions. Yuuri was not permitted to fly and was barked at each time that he displayed his feathers, though no one but the commodore was brave enough to confront the siren. Their diet was plain, the same gruel given to the crew. Yuuri had pouted at Victor after the third day, irritated that he could not use his wings to at least fetch fresh fish that none aboard seemed to even bother trying to catch. Victor had promised him that when they arrived in the capital, the meals they would be fed would make Yuuri sick with their richness. Yuuri had muttered understanding why good men like Emil had abandoned the service in favor of a pirate’s life, making Victor laugh. 

Nights they spent below deck at the very back of the crew quarters. They were given space but their placement was strategic, ensuring that any attempt at escape would pit them against the entire crew before they reached the exit. Victor chose not to point out that Yuuri could simply tear out the side of the ship if they really wanted to get out. Victor heard the whispers of how the pirate son of the commodore slept with a siren in his bed. How nostalgic. He did not mind them now. The sooner they recognized the nature of their relationship, the simpler it would be. 

“What do you think?” Victor asked, making a gesture toward the port. At the peak of the sailing season, the channels leading into the city would be so congested that ships would run in danger of scraping against each other as they passed. The merchant ships in the docks flew the colors of neighboring kingdoms and the ones across the seas. From their hulls, workers would be unloading spices and silks, beautifully crafted ceramics and furs, tobacco and gold. A trade ship flying a flag from the east would be delivering large crates of dried tea leaves, its popularity growing amongst the working class. A smaller packet ship passed the returning navy, keeping its distance. “You could own your own fleet. A siren admiral?”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose, his expression of complete displeasure. 

“No? You’re sure?” Victor smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Only if I can sink it.”

As much as Victor would have loved the spectacle of witnessing Yuuri sink an entire fleet at once, he did not think that would be approved. There were many adjustments to be made. Yuuri had been in ports before, but nothing that would compare to the capital. It had been over five years since Victor had been in the city. It would undoubtedly have changed, as had his status. He was no longer an individual to be envied and admired, but one to be feared. He preferred that. At least the latter was the result of his own accomplishments. No matter what proposal Lilia had in store for them, Victor had little doubt that there would be complications. He had made many enemies over the past few years and they would not grant forgiveness easily. His only goals going in were Yuuri’s safety and Yuuri’s happiness; all else came second. 

“Vitya!!”

In regard to safety and happiness—Victor glanced over his shoulder. Yakov stormed across the ship deck, jaw clenched and face red. Victor had expected him sooner. Either the communication between the commodore and his crew was poor, or age was getting to him. Victor turned around and took a step to his right, placing himself partially in front of Yuuri. “Yes?”

“What’s your siren doing out?!” Yakov snapped, stopping just out of arm’s reach. His glare was directed at Yuuri, and his hands hovered over his weapons belt.

“My _husband_ didn’t feel like being locked up,” Victor explained, his tone as obvious as the fact should be. Yuuri’s feathers melted back into the markings of his skin. During the journey, Yuuri had been permitted to roam the ship at will, provided that Victor accompanied him. However, as the coast had come into their sights, Yuuri was ordered to the brig. Victor had protested, insisting that Yuuri had more than demonstrated his willingness to go along with the agreement by following all of the rules laid out for them. He had been overridden but when a silk net was produced, he fought, shouting warnings that if they tried to wrap Yuuri with it, they would pay in blood and bodies. Yuuri let himself be taken down willingly, only because they both knew it would not be difficult for Yuuri to escape. All he had to do was ask. Wax ear plugs were not nearly as effective at close range, when Yuuri could shout his commands over them. 

“How did he—”

“You will soon learn, my dear commodore, that controlling a siren isn’t so simple,” Victor stated, standing firm. Victor had agreed to return to the capital with Yuuri, but not as prisoners. Their purpose was the aid of sirens and having Yuuri locked away in the brig of a ship was counterintuitive. “If you want to show that Yuuri poses no harm, bringing him out as a bird in a cage isn’t going to achieve that.” 

“So what do you propose, captain?” Yakov growled, his shoulders and posture stiff. 

“Lend us some clothing and let us walk off with the rest of the crew. Yuuri will hide his feathers and you’ll only need to manage one nasty rumor passing around your ports: the fact that you’re welcoming back a treasonous pirate.”

Yuuri chirped a confirmation, which made Yakov grit his teeth. 

“You assume you’re not being marched out in cuffs?”

“Are we, sir?”

The silence provided enough of an answer. Victor smirked. If Lilia was extending an olive branch, he doubted she would want him seen arriving in the ports as a prisoner. That would not serve whatever plan she had. 

“Go to my quarters,” Yakov snapped. “I’ll have clothing brought for your siren and a respectable coat for you. We’ll be docked within the hour. Remember that you’re here by invitation of the Queen. You will show your regards toward the crown, both of you.”

Victor mocked a curtsy, keeping hold of Yuuri’s hand as he brushed past Yakov. Yuuri chirped at the commodore as they passed him, increasing the weight of Yakov’s scowl and making the corners of Victor’s mouth twitch in amusement. They would be fine, as long as they were together. 

As promised, clothing was delivered to Yuuri along with a naval coat for Victor to replace the one he was wearing. Amaranth was deemed far too attention-grabbing. In all likelihood, Yakov would want to keep Victor’s presence under wraps until his meeting with Lilia. Sailors had a way of talking, though, drunk or not. 

Victor helped Yuuri dress, teasing the scowl off his lips when Yuuri expressed irritation at the itch of the fabric. They were about to be off the confinement of the ship, and perhaps the palace might grant them a degree more freedom. Victor had awoken in the middle of several of the previous nights, finding that Yuuri’s wings had sprung from his back in his sleep and were twitching, aching for flight even in his dreams. Caging a siren was cruel, but restricting their flight was just as brutal. The grief in Yuuri’s voice when he had cried over his injured wings still haunted Victor’s memory. 

They were instructed to stay inside the commodore’s quarters while the ship came into port and anchored. Yuuri hung by the windows, taking in as much of the view as he could through them. They had spent the six weeks aboard speaking in hushed voices even when no one was in sight. Victor had explained to Yuuri the rules of engaging with royalty, explained to him about life in the capital, explained to him how difficult it all might be. Explanations were different from experiences, though. 

It was not Yakov who fetched them but Michele. The officer did not bother knocking, barking an order after slamming open the door. Yuuri shot a glare as he joined Victor’s side and shuffled out onto the deck toward the gangway. “March, pirate!”

“You should watch your tone, Mickey,” Victor said, an arm wrapped loosely around Yuuri’s waist. He was going to hold onto Yuuri for as long as possible, not wanting to risk their separation. Yuuri had torn through a city before in order to get to him, he had no doubts that Yuuri would be more than willing to devastate the capital. He preferred they avoid that potential. “I might be your superior again before long.”

“That would be a disappointment, since I’ve been looking forward to your hanging.”

In response, Victor threw Michele his most charming smile. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that I disappoint the navy, would it?” He led Yuuri away, finding Yakov on the dock. Michele’s words meant that Lilia’s intentions were unknown not just to them, but to all. Victor had suspected as much, as even Yakov did not seem to be certain of the details behind why she had requested Victor be brought back. 

The harbor was flooded with activity, as more of the fleet followed them in. Further down would be the merchant ships and the others that paid for their spot on the docks. Men flooded from ships, tying them in and transporting their goods. At the end of the harbor were raised platforms where ships were being repaired, carpenters working to restore hulls damaged by time and masts damaged by weather. 

Yuuri stuck to Victor’s side, his eyes wide. Victor knew what that look was and why Yuuri’s hand trembled when he placed it on Victor’s arm. Yuuri had never seen so many humans in one place. The fleet Lilia had sent for them was meant to intimidate, to show the scale of what they would be up against if they resisted. Sirens were limited in numbers, humans less so. People had rushed to Yuuri and nearly overwhelmed him when they had thought his wings were a costume. Fear staved off fascination only until one individual overcame it, as then the rest would follow. The longer Yuuri stayed unrecognized, the better. If they could meet with Lilia, hear her proposal, and depart without those residing in the capital realizing there was a siren amongst them, that would give Victor the most peace of mind. 

“Keep your head down,” Yakov growled, positioning men in a wall around Victor and Yuuri, blocking them from the view of dock workers. “And make sure your bird keeps his wings in. We don’t need riots.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted, but Victor reeled him in. They did not need to test the speed of Yuuri’s wings against the force of the loaded weapons surrounding them. He leaned in and whispered a reassurance against Yuuri’s ear, letting Yuuri walk in front of him as they were escorted down the docks. They had been extended since Victor’s departure, accommodating more ships and more traffic. There were more men at work, the capital’s population booming. The kingdom was flourishing and Victor knew the goals that came with growth. Expansion. A siren would do nicely in aiding that. 

Yakov did not speak to them until they reached an awaiting coach, throwing up the door and gesturing toward it. Yuuri hung back, prickling, his hair standing on end. His entire body went stiff and he stayed rooted in his spot, borrowed shoes planted firmly into the ground. His unwavering, spooked gaze was focused on the front of the coach. Yakov glowered. “What now?!”

“He doesn’t like horses,” Victor muttered quietly and moved around to Yuuri’s side, putting himself between Yuuri and the horses, cutting off Yuuri’s view of them. He offered Yuuri his hand, promising that it would be fine. Yuuri had conquered a hellbeast before, and this was no different. This was safer, they would be inside the carriage rather than riding on the horse’s back. Yuuri nodded, his fingers threading through Victor’s, clinging onto his mate’s hand as he stepped up into the coach. 

Victor followed Yuuri and took a seat beside him, waiting for Yakov and a guard. The guard never entered. Yakov did, lumbering into the carriage after them a few minutes later. He shut the door with force and placed a loaded pistol in his lap, though the barrel faced away from his so-called guests. 

Yuuri paid little attention to the gun, his eyes directed out the window where he could see the flank and flickering tail of one of the horses. He then leaned against Victor’s side and pressed his lips to Victor’s ear as he murmured, “There are two…”

“That’s because the commodore is a heavy load,” Victor said, casting Yuuri a smile. Yakov did not appear amused by the joke, his scowl deep-set. “See? He doesn’t disagree.”

Yuuri cupped a hand over Victor’s ear, whispering to him, eyes flickering toward the top of Yakov’s balding head. Victor laughed and shook his head, patting Yuuri’s thigh. “No, lovebird. Don’t worry about that.”

“You think this is funny?” Yakov barked, pushing forward into their space. “You think this is another one of your games?”

“I have no idea what to think, sir,” Victor replied coolly, without blinking. At his side, Yuuri did not shrink away but sat up straighter, posturing himself to protect his mate if need be. “Lilia tells me that you’re dead and yet you show up trailing a fleet like the ghost of Davy Jones himself, demanding that I return here on her command. Yet you don’t bind me or have me thrown in the brig, despite all the warrants you’ve had issued for me. And you don’t tell me what she wants. So pardon my manners, commodore, if I act like I am unaware of the situation.” 

“I am following her Majesty’s orders,” Yakov snapped, jerking his head toward the window, checking their progress despite the fact that they had only started moving. When he looked back, Yuuri was opening his mouth. “No! You don’t speak, that was the agreement!”

“That was the agreement while we were on your ship, which we no longer are,” Victor cut in, his brows furrowed. They had conceded when they had come aboard that Yuuri would not use his voice, and that arrangement had been fine. It would be best for them if Yuuri only used it when he absolutely needed it, keeping his influence strong since now they knew how its power could wane. A one-time demonstration to be released from the brig right before they came into land was more than generous with self-control on Yuuri’s part. “Are you afraid? You’re the one with your weapon drawn. But I would remind you that Yuuri wouldn’t need to lift a single finger if he wanted to control you. We’re the ones granting you mercy here, sir.”

Yuuri chirped.

Scoffing, Yakov fell back in his seat and went quiet. 

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Yuuri gazed out the window, watching the streets and the people bustling on them. The fashion in the capital was different from the ports they had visited. There were more women about, dressed in the sort of gowns that Mila despised. Yuuri pressed into Victor whenever they went by another horse, obviously using all of his effort to prevent his feathers from poofing out. 

Victor expected to be taken first to his old home, to Yakov’s manor. Instead, the coach made its way toward the palace. He frowned as they went through the gates, the guards stationed there parting to make way. When they came to a halt and the doors were opened, Yakov clambored out first and growled at Victor to follow. Victor did, pausing to offer his hand to Yuuri and help him down. He only noticed that something was off when Yuuri’s eyes went wide. 

A line of attendants waited outside the coach, leading up the steps into the palace. Such a show was usually reserved only for the highest class of dignitaries and the royalty of other kingdoms. As soon as Victor faced them, all dropped their heads. Yuuri’s hand tightened around his. Victor said nothing and trailed after Yakov, leading Yuuri up the palace stairs. 

The memories of the halls and rooms were still vivid in Victor’s mind, but all of this would be new to Yuuri. The vaulted ceiling of the grand entrance would be three times taller than any Yuuri had seen before, leaving so much open space that Yuuri would have been able to spread his wings and soar. Columns of green marble divided the hall; to the right was the principal corridor that led to the drawing rooms and galleries, and to the left were the royal quarters and service areas. Yakov went left, his footsteps echoing across the polished woodwork parquet. 

They went up the west staircase, Yuuri stumbling after Victor, too engrossed in the view around him. His eyes swept over the paintings that lined the hall, the painted vases, the bejeweled decorative inlays in the corners of the halls. The gold that made the line between the walls and ceiling had Yuuri particularly engrossed, a true temptation to the nature of a siren. Victor flashed back to their first evening together, when Yuuri had stolen all the gold rings off his fingers. It would amuse him to no end if he found Yuuri trying to smuggle shiny palace trinkets in his robes. 

Yakov stopped in front of one of the private rooms, meant to house visitors deemed too important to relegate to the outer court apartments. “Get washed up. I’ll have an attendant come by to aid you. Your attire has already been laid out.”

Victor bristled. “We won’t require an attendant.”

“Do as you’re told, boy!”

“If you wish to send one, you may. But ask yourself if anyone will want to volunteer to bathe a siren,” Victor protested. He did not think Yuuri would take kindly to being scrubbed by a stranger, no matter what he was bribed with. Six weeks had gone by with hardly a moment of privacy, so he was going to seize the opportunity the second he saw it. “If you want to station your guards below the windows and in the hall, go ahead. I’ll see us fit for her Majesty’s audience.” 

Yakov shut his eyes for a moment too long, but did not argue. He waved them toward the double doors. “There should be a timepiece on the mantel. You have an hour, Vitya. She will not be kept waiting. Not even for you.”

Victor knew that well enough himself. He did not wait for Yakov to leave, but pushed open the doors and took Yuuri inside. Once there, he shut them firmly and flipped the lock. For a second after the lock clicked into place, there was calm. Then Yuuri churred behind him. 

Spinning on his heels, Victor threw his arms around Yuuri, pulling his mate tightly to him. Yuuri responded instantly, winding his arms low around Victor’s waist, burying his face into the crook of his shoulder. They had made it, safely and together, at least for now. They still did not know what Lilia wanted, but they had already made their plans. If what she proposed or the terms she offered were not agreeable and they were threatened, they would flee. Yuuri could command guards still and fly them away, and if their ears were plugged, they would fight their way out of the palace. Two against a small army would be manageable for them, or so Victor had convinced himself. Yuuri had his claws and his wings, and Victor knew each and every one of the strategies taught to palace guards. He had been relieved of his weapons aboard Yakov’s ship, but it would not be difficult to disarm anyone who dared to challenge them. 

Pulling back, Victor stroked his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, fingertips trailing over the markings by his ears. “You can take those clothes off now.”

Yuuri let out a noise of relief, kicking off the shoes and shedding the borrowed clothing as fast as he could. The second the shirt hit the floor, his wings burst from his back, feathers springing from all his markings. His feet momentarily morphed into claws—talons out and digging into the wood beneath him—before transforming back into feet. His hands then did the same, flexing in and out of siren form. Yuuri had let his markings change into feathers only a few times on board and each time he had been snapped at, commanded to conceal them. His wings ruffled and Victor smiled. 

“Go ahead, lovebird.”

The room was large, though so were Yuuri’s wings. He spread them to full width, wingtips nearly brushing the walls at either side. Victor took a step back, placing himself directly behind Yuuri and against the doors. The force of Yuuri beating his wings sent furniture flying. An armchair toppled over and the plush carpet beneath the bed rolled up. Curtains lifted and tangled within themselves when they fell back down, and a pitcher of water on the vanity crashed to the floor, spilling its contents. A shame—the room had been prepared so neatly for their arrival. 

“Feel better?”

Nodding, Yuuri ruffled his feathers once more. He left his wings out but tucked them against his back so as not to destroy the rest of the room as he walked. Crossing the space, he picked up the silver pitcher and set it back on the vanity, flicking droplets of water off his fingertips. 

Victor had never spent a night in the palace, but he did know most of the rooms, having learned them over time during his visits. To the left of the vanity and toppled armchair was a door to a bathing room, the space lined with tile and illuminated by natural light from expansive windows. Victor pushed them open, glancing out into the center courtyard. No guards appeared to yet be stationed below. He shut the lace curtains and dipped a hand into the water filling the copper bathtub. It had been recently heated, the high temperature nipping at his skin. 

“Yuuri!” They did, after all, need to do as they were told. 

Yuuri was delighted by the bath. Having been forbidden to fly meant being restricted from bathing, only able to use the water the crew had boiled on board, though they were a lot less diligent with their supply than Chris had been. Victor had helped him clean his skin with dampened rags, though it had not been the same. 

Once Victor had set aside his clothing, Yuuri reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling him into the water. A bar of castile soap had been set aside for them to use. Victor worked it between his hands, building up a lather to wash Yuuri’s hair. They might not dry off within the hour but he found that he cared little. Yuuri sat between Victor’s legs in the bath, his back to Victor’s chest, chirring sweetly as Victor scrubbed his scalp, washing away the salt and oil. Finally, a moment to themselves. 

The six weeks had dragged on like no others that Victor had spent at sea and yet, glancing back, they appeared to have passed in a blink. Six weeks spent as half-prisoners, without information, without knowledge, without the ability to communicate with Victor’s abandoned crew. He only hoped that their message had made it. 

Once Yuuri’s hair was rinsed, Victor moved on to washing his skin. He scrubbed down Yuuri’s back, tracing the lines of his inked wings. He washed Yuuri’s hands and his feet, chuckling softly when he needed to crane around Yuuri to get at his ankles. Before long, the clear water had gone milky with soap and the heat began to grow lukewarm. 

Yuuri shifted around, returning the favor. He let out a bird-like chatter of irritation when the strands of Victor’s hair stopped short, still very much displeased with the new style. 

“They would have made me cut it anyway, lovebird.” Long hair like his was not fit for a gentleman of the court. 

Yuuri pouted, making Victor laugh with the sweetness of his expression alone. 

“I’ll grow it out for you, like I promised. As soon as I’m able.” 

How long the wait would be, they would soon find out. Victor drew Yuuri into him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together, spinning the sapphire-laden band around his ring finger. Victor knew that, eventually, the navy would have come for him. He was a nuisance, a black mark on their name, but he kept his ship away from their borders and avoided most of the vessels that flew the Queen’s flag. He had expected to die a pirate, hung for his crimes or else killed in battle. Either would be a noble death, by his standards. He thought that if he were brought back to the capital, it would be to face trial, not to be received like a visiting royal. Undoubtedly, it was Yuuri who had changed that. 

The last memory Victor had of the palace was fleeing from it, ripping off the badge of honor that had been pinned to his uniform. A celebration had been scheduled that night, in recognition of the naval victory. Victor had been absent from it and every other one that would follow. 

He dropped his head, resting it on the curve of Yuuri’s shoulder, his nose brushing Yuuri’s collarbone. His hold around Yuuri tightened and he pulled his mate in, needing to feel the reassurance that was Yuuri’s solid form against him. “I’m scared, lovebird.”

Water splashed onto the floor, sloshing in the tub as Yuuri’s wings appeared and cocooned Victor inside them. The light from the windows was blocked by the darkness of his feathers as Yuuri pressed his lips to the whorl of Victor’s hair. “You’re not alone this time.” 

Yuuri was right. He wasn’t. And he had something real to fight for. Glancing up, Victor cupped Yuuri’s face and teased the small feathers by his ears before leaning in to catch him in a proper kiss. It had been far too long. Victor would rather have spent the six weeks in the brig, if it had meant being able to kiss Yuuri. He moved his mouth over Yuuri’s with the desperation of a starving man, seeking out his tongue and the spark of fuel that came with Yuuri’s taste. 

Yuuri mewled and shifted closer, straddling Victor, equally as anguished. His fingers tangled in Victor’s hair and he used the angle to dominate, the force of his kisses sucking the air from Victor’s lungs. It was the unknown that was frightening, the inability to foresee what threats they might face and prepare for the outcomes. Every strategy came with calculated risks. Yuuri’s well-being was not a risk Victor was willing to take. He needed Yuuri whole and free, all else be damned. 

Groaning, Victor broke away, though he was only able to resist for a moment before planting two more kisses to Yuuri’s reddened lips. They should simply grab the clothing left for them, cut slits in the back for Yuuri, and fly. Find the lush island Yuuri had taken him for mating season and spend their years there, forgetting the politics and wars. The ideal was only disrupted by the fact that the siren Yuuri had chased from his nest there was missing. More might join him if they did nothing. 

Yuuri chirred a protest, claiming Victor’s mouth again as his hands began to trail down Victor’s chest. 

It took all his strength to push Yuuri from him. “We need to go, lovebird. We can’t keep royalty waiting. And I don’t think you want to be caught mating in a bathtub.”

Conceding, Yuuri paused his efforts. They concluded their bath and toweled one another dry, Yuuri giving Victor’s hair an extra-rough rubbing. The clothing on the bed had been disrupted by Yuuri’s wings, and was now bunched up by the pillows rather than carefully set at the foot of it. Victor recognized those meant for him. The tyrian colors had not faded despite their age, the golden decorative threads spanning the long lapel holding firmly together. The fit remained perfect as well, having been tailored to him. The coat had been a gift for his twentieth birthday, left for him during the few weeks he had returned home between voyages. Expensive. Regal. Meant for ceremonies and royal balls. Victor had never had the chance to wear it. He pulled it on, after cladding himself in the rest. 

The clothes given to Yuuri were simpler, yet still appropriate for court. The jacket and pants were dyed with indigo, the buttons hosting flowers made of silver thread. Yuuri smiled at the details, satisfied. He fetched a brush from the vanity and brushed Victor’s hair, finishing just as a fist pounded on the door. 

Victor took Yuuri’s hands in his and kissed them, keeping hold as they headed for the hall. 

Yakov’s frown morphed into a scowl when he saw the state of the room. “What did you do?!”

“Yuuri needed to stretch his wings,” Victor replied carefully, punctuating the statement with a shrug of his shoulders. “Since you wouldn’t let him do it on the ship. Shall we go, commodore? I don’t want to keep her Majesty waiting.”

Muttering under his breath, Yakov started down the hall in the direction of the throne room. Victor noticed the guards that flanked them, following them all the way down. They were made to wait, a few minutes passing before a man in formalwear emerged, bowing his way out from an audience with the Queen. Soon after, attendants shuffled out, joined by the royal guard. The throne room was being emptied of all save for the Queen. 

Yakov nudged Victor square in the back, pushing him forward. “Go.”

Yuuri tightened the hold of his hand around Victor’s and chirped softly enough that only Victor would be able to hear. They entered the throne room together. 

The hall of the room was long, the columns raised, carpet leading to the Queen dyed the color of poppies. Lilia was seated in wait, her stern expression weighted even in the distance. Victor squared his shoulders and took the length of the room in stride, Yuuri matching him step for step. At their backs, Yakov shut the doors, securing the private audience. Victor knew where to stop, three paces from the steps to her Majesty’s throne. He bowed at the waist. At his side, Yuuri did not do the same. 

“Your Majesty…” Victor greeted quietly, not looking up. “I am the pirate Victor Nikiforov and this is Yuuri of the Katsuki siren clan. We are here by your invitation and hope that you extend us kindness.” 

“As if I don’t know who you are, Vitya.” With a heavy sigh, Lilia raised herself from the throne, lifting the emerald green and ivory skirts of her gown. She descended the steps, each movement deliberate. Her presence filled the hall, growing suffocating as she approached. “Stand up straight, my boy. Look at me when you address me.”

Nodding, Victor straightened. Lilia stood before him, her heels putting her at equal height. The jewels on her hands and her neck denoted her wealth, the crown her status. She needed none of them to convey her power, carrying it in her aura alone. Victor could see where her hair had begun to grey, taking the color and youth from the pitch-black strands. He did not know what to expect, nor what she wanted, and when she raised her hand, he thought it might come stinging across his cheek. 

He was mistaken. 

Lilia enveloped him in her arms, cradling him in an embrace. Victor stood frozen, his arms at either side of her, bent but slack, unsure of how to react until the whisper came, “Welcome home, Vitya.”

The palace had never been his home. He had spent his hours there, for the ballroom dance classes Lilia insisted that he take and to learn all the manners expected of a member of the royal court. He had practiced fencing with Yakov in the courtyard, and run his dog through the gardens until a scolding came. The palace was where he had come to be shaped into the man they had expected him to be. And he had, although temporarily. His home was on his ship, with the crew he had chosen and the siren he had fallen for. 

Victor wound his arms around Lilia and clung on. Beside him, Yuuri waited patiently. 

When Lilia pulled back, she cleared her throat, regaining her posture and her grimace. She nodded in greeting to Yuuri, regarding him for a moment before returning her focus to Victor. “You will have been wondering why you’re here.”

“That is one of our questions,” Victor answered, taking in a slow, deep breath. 

“We won’t speak here, I want to sit with you on equal footing. You and your mate. Yasha, is the drawing room prepared?”

“As you requested, your Majesty,” Yakov replied, “It has been cleared.”

“Good. Come then.”

Yuuri glanced toward Victor with curiosity as they trailed after Lilia. To the far right of the throne room was one of several drawing rooms, used to accommodate those who would wait long for the Queen. It was locked behind them as they entered, and Lilia invited them to sit on one of several sofas. Once more, she studied Yuuri, her gaze shifting from his face to his hands, pausing on the one he held Victor’s with. 

“My wish for you, dear Vitya, is simple,” Lilia spoke, her head held high and her tone determined. “You will return here to take your place as my heir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter art here](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/186549717464/lucycamui-crimson-chains-a-foreboding)


	3. Resolve

When Victor was thirteen years of age, he had been made to memorize uniforms. The strategy games, the books on ship building, the etiquette lessons, and even the dance classes he could understand. Being able to identify every variation on shoulder and sleeve decorations that denoted rank would have made sense to him, if he were being made to study the naval uniforms. However, the memorization tests did not stop with just the uniforms worn by officers in the Queen’s navy.

The uniforms of her army were included, as were the uniforms of servants who served in the palace, those of the clergy, those of dignitaries, and those of other branches of nobility. When he had finished learning those, stacks of colored renditions of uniforms worn by the militaries of opposing kingdoms were left on his desk. Victor had not understood why it was necessary, why he was required to know so many details that he never expected to encounter.

As was his nature, though, Victor did remember the details. On his walk home from school one afternoon, he had passed a unit of soldiers in uniform. His eyes scanned their decorations and he had mentally tallied their ranks and their honors within seconds. A useless skill unless he was approached, as then he would be able to identify the lead in command and know how to address each man. They paid him no mind, too amused by their own boisterous conversations of the prospective drinks to be had.

A few months later, Victor had been in attendance at a reception in the palace. He had stood in the throne hall, at attention alongside Yakov. Lilia greeted representatives from visiting kingdoms, a banquet scheduled to be held after discussions of politics, the details of which Victor would not be privy to. As each individual entered the room, Victor whispered the nation they represented and their position to Yakov before they were announced. He made no mistakes and Yakov had patted his back as they had left. Not long after that, Victor had received a gift from the Queen: a formal suit for him to wear when attending ceremonies at the palace. His own uniform, of sorts. At least until he was able to receive one from the navy.

Lilia had always insisted that he learn to be a gentleman of the court, in addition to being groomed for leadership within the navy. Victor had learned how to greet and address those in both greater and lower ranks than himself, how to vary his mannerisms between men and women, how to be exactly what Yakov and Lilia wanted.

“Lilia, you can’t—” Yakov started forward, but Lilia held out her arm, stopping him midstep.

“Silence! This is not your decision to make. Vitya?”

Seated beside Victor, Yuuri had gone stiff and his fingers tightened around Victor’s hand. Even without words exchanged between them, Yuuri understood. Yuuri knew. Just as Yuuri had told him earlier, he was not alone. The reason Victor sat before Lilia now, faced with a ridiculous proposition, was because of his mate.

Victor thought to stand, to voice his protest strongly. However to stand would be to raise himself above the Queen and even now his body refused to commit such an offense. He remained in place and took his strength from Yuuri’s presence. “No.”

Lilia did not adopt a hint of surprise. “No?”

“No,” Victor replied, dipping his head in feigned respect, “Your Majesty.”

“Because you’re still playing pirate?”

“Because who in their right mind would want to be ruled by someone who’s been declared a traitor to the crown?” Victor snapped, trying to wrap his mind around the logic. His list of crimes would surely extend down the length of the palace courtyard and beyond, with treason considered the most heinous by the courts. The thought that the adopted son of the commodore, a shame to the very image of her Majesty’s throne, could sit upon it was comical. He could already envision the protests.

“You will be pardoned,” Lilia replied, her tone cool and even. She remained relaxed, confident in her words as she spoke them. “There will obviously need to be serious efforts made to repair your image and regain the trust of those within the court. As you’ve won over criminals and creatures with ease, I don’t foresee it as a challenge.”

“I refuse—”

“Why are you here then, Vitya?” Lilia asked, leaning forward. “Why did you agree to come? There must be something that you want.”

Victor went still. It was not as if he had had the chance to refuse. He had seen no other option than to accept Yakov’s offer and heed Lilia’s call to return to the capital in order to hear her proposal. Now that he had heard it, he wanted no part of it. Lilia had secured a private audience, demonstrating her faith that Victor would not cause her harm. Yuuri’s voice, however, could keep both her and Yakov securely in place while he and Yuuri fled. They could escape, return to the ship, carry on with the plan of warning sirens and demonstrating that they were not a species of bird that could be hunted and kept. “I came because he threatened to harm a child if I did not.”

Lilia’s expression did change at that, an eyebrow arching in surprise. She cast a glance at Yakov.

“A siren,” he growled in response. “It had attempted to board a ship.”

“She was only curious!” Victor protested, his hands trembling. “Is this how far you’ve come? Taking children as hostages to achieve your goals?!”

“Calm yourself, my boy,” Lilia said. “Was she harmed?”

“We released her,” Yakov answered. “As per Victor’s request.”

Lilia turned back, smoothing her skirts, using the moment of silence between their parties to gather her thoughts. “In that case, you came here seeking to ask me not to pursue sirens?” When Victor nodded, she smiled. “Then, we can easily reach an agreement. Would the best way to secure their safety not be to have a siren sitting at the hand of the new king? He is your mate, is he not?”

“Did the commodore not inform you?” Victor asked, shifting his hold to clearly show the matching rings that both he and Yuuri wore. “We have wed.”

When he had informed Yakov of the same, the commodore had scowled and turned beet red as he so obviously held back criticism in worry of awakening the siren’s wrath. Lilia, on the other hand, only blinked mildly in surprise before laughing. The sound echoed against the arched ceiling, loud and genuine. “Oh, my dear boy. Can you not see how perfect this is? The heir to the kingdom, married to a siren. Who would dare to dissent?”

The mere thought of it was mortifying. A ruler whose partner had the power to silence any hint of opposition, whose words could not be questioned and whose commands no objections could stand. A siren’s voice could end a war before it started, sentence a full army to immediate death, and gain control of a kingdom with a single word: _Give_. Perhaps, it could be peaceful but tyranny without consequence rarely yielded such a luxury. Victor imagined Yuuri on a golden throne, his feet littered with mountains of ripe mangoes. He doubted that was the vision Lilia had in mind. “What makes you think I would want this?”

“It’s what you were raised for,” Lilia answered. “I am growing older, Vitya. It is time. Surely you know what has been happening ever since that book about your mate got out. There is talk here too, in the court, amongst the nobility. Everyone wants a siren. I cannot imagine that such a widespread quest would end peacefully. I might not have the power to stop such foolish desires, but you, my boy—you would. Imagine, a siren in the court. You want them left alone? Then you come and take your place here. Make sure all those who dare to hunt your husband’s kin are made aware that they would face the opposition of the future king.”

There were other options. They could return to their ship, their crew, and work from there. Humans might know about the trappings of a silk net and how to dampen a siren’s call, but they were still weak to a siren’s claws. Wood would still splinter beneath a siren’s talons. But bullets could shred wings from a distance, with ears muted to commands.

Victor looked at Yuuri, seeking council in those eyes of honey brown. He had seen the horror on Yuuri’s face back at the Nishigori’s cliffside, when one of the tiny siren girls had been grasped by a man in uniform, a sword at her throat. Yuuri’s skin had turned near pitch black, feathers standing from his spread markings like needles, eyes red with rage. Yet his voice would not have carried past the wax blocking his commands and even the speed of his wings would not have been enough to prevent the risk of the triplets becoming twins.

In a few months, spring would approach. The stark black of Yuuri’s feathers would grey and molt away. Across the seas, every siren in every nest would be weak, their strength sapped and their voices hoarse with the changing season. And the humans who now knew this would go hunting.

Yuuri’s gaze was wide, a thousand questions that he did not yet dare speak aloud poised on the tip of his tongue. If they returned to the ship, they could carry on with the plan to unite sirens and demonstrate the power they still held. Yet when faced with a fleet, Victor had realized the scale. It would be war they were heading into and no victory would come quickly enough. A few hundred casualties on the human side would count as a successful battle. A few hundred casualties on the siren side would devastate their population. Nests would go empty and sirens would become a myth kept in history books.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked weakly, grasping his hands so tightly he feared they might bruise. Yuuri’s response was a low churr, the soft chattering melody broken by conflict. Victor could not make the decision on his own, not when it was Yuuri and his family who would face the consequences. He could not agree and he could not protest, not so suddenly, not without a chance to think, to figure out if there was a better way.

Lilia stood, her head held high. “Consider my offer, Vitya. Think about how simple it would be for you to have whatever it is you want if you remain here. But know that, if you flee, I will no longer be able to stop those who would rather see you dead. There will be no pardons for you or your crew, and no bars placed on those pursuing sirens. You can die fighting as a pirate or live leading as my heir. Make your choice by morning; I have preparations to make either way.”

The layers of Lilia’s skirts billowed after her as she left, sweeping across the room to the doors. She did not open them herself, beckoning to Yakov. “Come, Yasha. They will have much to discuss.”

Yakov’s stone-like expression was set in a permanent grimace. He abandoned the position he had kept, joining Lilia to unlock and open the door for her. “Don’t you dare flee,” he snarled back at Victor and Yuuri. It seemed like such a hollow threat.

Victor offered a smile in return. “You would have my decision then, would you not?” Another chirp from Yuuri, this one sweeter and more provoking, had his smile turning more genuine.

When the doors clanged shut behind the Queen and her commodore, the room was heavy with silence. Neither Yuuri nor Victor spoke, both at a loss for where to begin. Behind them, a mantel clock counted the seconds, the rhythm steady unlike the murmur of Victor’s heart. For a waiting room, the space was grand, but Victor felt the walls suffocating him. He had felt trapped within them before, wishing and waiting for the days he could be out on the open sea.

Grabbing Yuuri’s hand, Victor dragged him out of the smothering space, slamming the doors open without care for proper manners or whom it might startle. He still had a blade in his boot and a siren at his side, if anyone cared to stop him in tearing through a palace that was apparently meant to be his.

His feet carried him on muscle memory, down the vast and winding halls, though now, instead of a single set of footsteps echoing behind him, there were two. He had Yuuri’s fingers laced firmly through his. Victor’s days in the palace during his youth had always been regular. He had no doubt that if he stayed, there would be faces he would recognize, attendants and guards still there in service some ten to twenty years later. Unlike himself.

Yuuri churred at his back but Victor did not stop, going to the one place within the palace walls where he had always been able to breathe.

The main ballroom was graciously empty, devoid of any soul that Victor wished to avoid. The painted marble shone beneath their shoes, the gold foil-wrapped ceiling tall enough that, even if it collapsed amidst the clamor of a war, it would give them time to flee. Victor stopped running, but he kept ahold of Yuuri. Of everything he could give up, he would never permit himself to part from Yuuri.

“Victor…”

Victor stayed turned away from Yuuri, looking out across the empty ballroom. He had no way of counting how many days, how many hours he had spent there, learning to dance from Lilia and the instructors she had brought for him. The melody of the music still resonated in his memory, repetitive, the same notes played over and over until he was able to match the steps without a hint of faltering. No one, not even himself, could have imagined he would use those skills to make a siren his dance partner. “When I was fifteen or so, the thought struck me. Lilia had no children of her own, but it was said that she had an heir. I realized that it might be me. Why else would the Queen dedicate so much of her time and effort to a boy she’d had pulled from an orphanage? I heard some rumors, that there had been others, but that none of them had stayed for more than a couple of weeks. I never knew if it was true or not. Yakov said I was meant for the navy. To be a captain, a commander, a commodore, an admiral and then… No rank comes after that, lovebird. What could possibly be greater than an admiral? After I left, I thought I would never find out if my suspicions were true. I didn’t want to find out. I thought if Lilia left an empty throne, the royal council would simply name another well-respected noble. There are plenty of them in line that desire it. And when they did, my days of freedom at sea would come to an end. I was fine with that.”

“You don’t have to stay.” In the vast expanse of the ballroom, Yuuri’s voice was beyond soft. It would surely be lost to the grandeur and the noise of a crowded banquet.

“Don’t I?”

Had it not been for his own carelessness, they would not have been caught. Victor had allowed Minami to keep his sketchbook of notes, had taken Yuuri with him on stops in ports, had let the rumors of a siren on board his ship spread. Yet even if he could go back, he did not think he would be able to change a thing. It would mean restricting Yuuri and his crew, making enemies in friendly ports, and demonstrating far too little mercy.

“Lilia may be right.” Victor sighed. If he stayed, he would be in a position of power. He could use that to keep the navy away from siren nests and make it known that anyone who tried to seek them out themselves would be punished. The terror in Lutz’s dark eyes as she struggled against tightly woven silk ropes was still vivid in his mind. “If we run now, we’ll be chased. Genuinely chased. I’ll be putting everyone at risk. Everyone who sails with me, your family, other sirens…”

“Victor,” Yuuri called again, moving into his line of vision and tipping up. His hands lifted to settle on either side of Victor’s face, bringing his gaze down to meet it. “It is not your fault.”

Victor laughed and kissed one of Yuuri’s palms. “You know that it is, lovebird.”

“I’m the one who chose a human for a mate.”

“If only you’d known what you were getting yourself into.” Yuuri’s love could never be a regret. Victor had come to appreciate all of his upbringing, because each and every moment of it had brought him to Yuuri. “Lovebird, if I stay… I can find out how much is known, I can learn any plots that might be brewing and put a stop to them. The crew won’t have to face as much opposition, they can keep spreading word without interference. But Yuuri, you can’t stay with me. This place isn’t meant for you.”

Yuuri scowled, the markings by his ears momentarily puffing into feathers out of irritation. “I’m not leaving you.”

“We don’t know what they want from you or how they’ll try to use you. You heard her, she’s already talking about using your voice to silence dissent,” Victor said, placing his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. To anyone who strived for power and control, a siren would be a godsend. It would not be long before the commodore or a general from the army came demanding the gift that was Yuuri’s voice.

“I’m not leaving you,” Yuuri repeated. “If we stay, we stay together.”

“You won’t be free here,” Victor replied, fingers tracing the stitches in the borrowed clothing Yuuri wore. “They might not let you fly. There are rules here, Yuuri. How to act, how to speak, how to look. You’ll have to wear clothes like this every day. And shoes.”

An admittedly unhappy churr came as a response to that, making Victor laugh again. Just like that, Victor knew he was helpless to protest, as Yuuri would be the only way he could possibly survive remaining at the palace.

“If we stay,” Yuuri said softly, his words slow and deliberate, “We might be able to save more sirens. We’re being hunted. From here, we can find out who is responsible. And I can make sure they pay for it, by a siren’s hand.”

Yuuri was right. On the seas, they would be chasing rumors. Whispers in ports and on ships, and the stories told by any siren that did not first try to sing them to the depths. From the privilege of the palace, they could learn far more and at a greater pace. The heir and his siren mate would surely be invited to all manner of grand parties, where the liquor flowed with ease and made mouths loose.

“So we stay?” Victor asked, wrapping his fingers around Yuuri’s hands, clutching them to his heart. “We stay and we act the part, until we figure out how to stop this. Until we figure out how to get out.”

Yuuri chirped once more, though this time it was in the confirmation of a kiss to Victor’s lips.

Victor wanted to sweep him into his arms and not let go. They could dance across the ballroom floor, Victor finally having the partner for whom he had practiced all those years. It would be a delight to see Yuuri in formal ball attire, gorgeous and yet fidgeting with the stiff clothing. At least he would enjoy the music and, though he would not be able to sing, Victor would have Yuuri making melodies against his mouth come nightfall.

With his arms draped loosely around Yuuri’s waist, Victor pulled Yuuri to him, striving for more of the kiss. Newly wed and yet they had been forced to spend the past several weeks resisting the urge to indulge in each other’s comfort. There was nowhere on board the ship they could trust that they were not being listened to or observed in secret. At the very least, they had now been afforded a moment of privacy.

Yuuri’s grip tightened into the fabric of Victor’s coat, fingernails dipping into threaded decorations. His wordless plea came hushed, tongue teasing at the seam of Victor’s lips, unsure if this was the time to seek it. Yuuri had tipped up onto his toes, his hold unrelinquishing and his vocal chords producing the meekest moan when Victor responded to his deepened kiss. Victor was barely able to resist devouring his mouth, and then devouring Yuuri whole, right against the painted columns.

The sound of his own name vibrating off Yuuri’s tongue brought Victor back into the room. He broke away only to immediately leave a few more kisses on Yuuri’s lips and face, whispering for Yuuri to follow him. He did not take them back to the room they had been given, instead looping by the service quarters to raid one of the pantries dedicated to the kitchens. He moved quickly, pocketing a vial the sight of which had the darker hue of Yuuri’s eyes glowing. They were down the hall within the minute, Yuuri’s muffled laughter sparking delight through Victor. This he could live with.

There were attendants inside the room, fixing the disheveled state Yuuri’s wings had left it in. Victor ordered them out, latching the doors behind them. Yuuri was within his arms instantly, fingers grasping into Victor’s hair, mouth eagerly moving against his own. A sigh of relief escaped Victor and he hitched Yuuri to him, wanting to erase any distance left between them.

His heel caught on the carpet as they stumbled back, his hip hitting the corner of the bed. The dull ache that resulted was washed away by Yuuri’s hands dropping, untucking his shirt and pushing down on the waistline of his trousers.

They lost their clothing quickly, settling skin-to-skin on the bed, the blankets pushed aside as Yuuri shifted to straddle Victor’s lap. He guided Victor’s hands around him, rocking forward to help them slip from the small of his back down over the curve of his ass. The cassia oil Victor had taken smelled of warm spice and made his fingertips tingle as he slipped them between Yuuri’s buttocks.

The hasty kisses melted into slow stretching, Yuuri riding himself open on Victor’s fingers and pleading for more when he was ready. Victor took hold of Yuuri’s hips, guiding Yuuri down onto his oil-slicked cock. They groaned in unison, the both of them searching for each other’s mouths. The first sharp upward thrust from Victor’s hips had Yuuri pitching forward, his arms thrown around Victor’s shoulders, fingers lacing together as they dangled at Victor’s upper back.

Their setting was unfamiliar but the heat of Yuuri’s body all around him felt like being home. Victor skimmed bruising, open-mouthed kisses down Yuuri’s neck and along the curve of his shoulder, his teeth leaving a shallow impression at the point where his collarbone faded away. He could feel himself stretching out Yuuri’s rim as he pulled out and then pushed in, adoring the chirrs that Yuuri littered onto his skin with the shifting movement between them.

“Let your wings out, lovebird,” Victor whispered, his mouth at the pulse point on Yuuri’s throat. “Let me see your beautiful feathers.”

The black and red bloomed from Yuuri’s skin like flowers, silken to the touch. Feathers tickled Victor’s back and his outer thighs, and he kissed up the side of Yuuri’s face to find the feathered markings there. His wings stretched across the room, filling it before retracting, the tips of his primary feathers sweeping the floor on either side of the bed. What a vision. Victor had yet to see anything more beautiful.

A gasp off Yuuri’s lips broke in half as he sank fully onto Victor’s cock, his voice melodic. They hushed their moans on each other’s tongues, Victor leaving bruises on Yuuri’s hips while Yuuri’s nails marked up his back. His wings rustled, his muscles tremoring. A sunset-pink blush dusted his cheeks and his thighs, lips reddened and glistening from the force of Victor’s mouth. He mewled freely as pleasure shot through him, placing trembling fingers on Victor’s chest as he grew close.

Victor always adored how Yuuri looked just before he peaked. His eyes would fall to half-mast, lips parted, stomach taut, and thighs clenched. Yuuri always moved with more desperation too, chasing the high that came with love and chirping a plea for yet another kiss. Victor obeyed, covering Yuuri’s mouth with his. He drank in his moans and his tongue, wrapping his fingers around Yuuri’s cock and stroking with a broken rhythm until Yuuri came in pearls into his hand.

Slumping against Victor, Yuuri churred with satisfaction and trilled for more. Victor turned them over, letting Yuuri rest on his back with his wings stretched out beneath him. “Beautiful,” Victor said, smiling down at Yuuri.

Returning the smile, Yuuri wound his arms and his legs around Victor, tugging him closer. “Mate me, my prince.”

Victor laughed. “A pirate captain for a mate isn’t good enough for you anymore?”

“The pirate captain was better,” Yuuri mused, walking his fingers up the nape of Victor’s neck to thread them into silver strands. “He had such long, lovely hair.”

“My apologies. I’ll take my leave,” Victor said, teasingly making to move away.

Yuuri protested with a whine and a pout, pulling Victor back onto him. He furled his wings around Victor, trapping him within the embrace. “I’ll be with you no matter what,” he said, his tone dropping into one more serious. “Through everything.”

Victor nodded and hitched Yuuri in by the hips, settling between his open legs. “And I will love you no matter what, through everything.”

Before long, Victor had Yuuri singing against his mouth again, exchanging gasps and the thrill of neglected intimacy reignited. As evening fell, a knock rapped at the doors but Yuuri shouted a command of “Leave us!” The halls outside the room went silent after that, and they remained tangled within each other’s limbs and each other’s love well into the darkness of the night.

Victor was so used to the lull of waves against the side of the ship that waking up without it felt out of place. They had left the curtains parted, welcoming in the first cool hints of dawn. The palace would be quiet, with only the attendants stirring and setting about their morning work. If they wanted to run, they would have no better opportunity. An early blitz, a pirate and his siren fleeing from the capital by way of the sky. Yuuri’s shadow would blanket the city, casting down the darkness of his wings. Despite the fantasy, it would not be a peaceful life that they would be returning to aboard the ship.

Yuuri snored delicately against Victor’s shoulder, his fingers curled into his palms, loosely clenched fists resting against Victor’s arm. His darling lovebird. They would be in for quite the challenge. Victor couldn’t even speculate, knowing that even the best laid plans often went awry. What mattered was that they would be together, fighting alongside each other. Victor had wedding vows to keep, after all.

Leaning down, Victor touched his lips to the markings by Yuuri’s ear and slipped from the bed. He stretched and recapped the vial of oil they had taken, before finding his pair of discarded pants on the floor. Outside the windows, he could hear the muted chirping of birds in the courtyard.

Dressing himself, Victor slipped from the room quietly and headed down the halls. The palace was as foreign to him as it was familiar, even the turns he had only ever taken a few times lingering in his memory. The kitchens were alive with activity as servants prepared morning meals, the air warm and sweet. There was a scramble when he was seen, a few of the workers going stock-still, kitchen knives tensely gripped in their hands. A cook rushed to him, dipping her head and muttering a nervous greeting. Victor recognized her, remembering her as the attendant who would sometimes slip small sweet cakes into his hands between his long lessons. Instead of the soft kindness that used to fill her eyes, he only saw unease.

Victor requested bread and fruit, responding with gratitude and leaving quickly to lift the tension. He was almost amused, as normally on land he always paid for his goods; to receive food freely felt like stealing through intimidation, even though it was rightfully his for the taking. It would take time to adjust.

Victor was back at the guest room doors just as Yuuri burst through them, his feathers on full display and his eyes wild with worry. They grew wider and his expression fell into relief when he saw Victor. A few of the mandarins in Victor’s hands dropped to the floor as Yuuri nearly knocked him off his feet, throwing his arms around Victor in a tight embrace.

“I thought—” Yuuri’s voice broke, his panic settling. “Don’t leave me here.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d get back before you woke up. I won’t do it again,” Victor answered, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s bangs. “Look, I got us breakfast.”

Yuuri’s feathers did not fade away but they settled against his skin, his gaze shifting to the bread in Victor’s hand. The tip of his nose twitched but his eyes narrowed. “Biscuits,” he muttered, his tone contemptuous.

“Bread,” Victor corrected with a smile. He would not dare bring Yuuri hard, dry ship biscuits. Perhaps, if the day went according to whatever Lilia’s plan was, they might be granted a proper dinner. Yuuri would be craving meat and Victor did not wish to explain why a palace “hellbeast” had gone missing so early in their patronage. “We’re not staying here right now, lovebird, but I need you to put some trousers on before I escort you. I don’t wish to share this sight of you with anyone else.”

Pink dusting his cheeks at his nudity, Yuuri rushed back into the room and found the clothing he had so eagerly discarded the night before. He slipped into the pants and fastened them, then plucked up the shirt.

“You don’t have to put it on right now,” Victor said. He intended for Yuuri to be rid of it within a few minutes regardless. “Leave the shoes here, too.”

That had Yuuri delighted. He took the shirt with him, hanging it off his arm, and joined Victor in the hall. As they walked, Victor tore off a piece of still-warm bread and offered it to Yuuri. “Try it.”

Yuuri took the piece from Victor’s fingers, humming as he chewed. His ear feathers did perk up, smile spreading.

“Good?”

Yuuri nodded, reaching for another piece.

“Next time you can try it with some fruit jam,” Victor said, leading Yuuri outside into the courtyard. He had spent a fair amount of time there too, taking lessons in chivalrous duels, the rules of which differed from the techniques Yakov taught him to use in battle. He sparred with partners, using what he had learned from both to gain the advantage even if it was not considered proper.

The courtyard was enclosed by the palace, the cobblestone walkways along the perimeter offset by lush grass and a few trees that would bloom with flowers come spring. Victor crossed the courtyard, taking a seat on a stone bench and shaking his head when Yuuri came to join him. “I know you’ve been aching to fly, lovebird. Just try to stay beneath the roof line.”

Churring with the utmost joy, Yuuri grasped Victor’s face between his hands and crashed their lips together for a split second. His wings burst forth and he took off, sending a gust of wind in his wake. Despite the width of the courtyard, he was limited, keeping his spirals tight and his surges upward brief. The breeze from his wings rustled through Victor’s hair and clothing, bringing up a smile of his own. It was cruel to keep a siren from flying for so long. Like keeping a fish out of water.

As Yuuri twirled and stretched his wings midair, his voice carried down to Victor, chirps melting into the notes of a song. Sweet yet melancholy, it pulled on his heartstrings as it produced visions of a flittering bird that knew it would soon be forced to return to its cage.

Victor stood when Yuuri swooped in closer, tossing him one of the mandarin fruits. He chuckled at how quickly Yuuri shredded the skin from the citrus segments, dropping the rind back down to Victor. The siren’s song grew sweeter.

It would be chaotic for a long while, Victor knew that. However, if all went well, perhaps he would have the chance to take Yuuri to the oceanside for a proper flight. If the Queen wanted a siren in her court, she would have to afford Yuuri some leeway.

“Vitya!”

Yuuri’s song faltered, the music of his voice cutting off into a sharp silence.

From a courtyard entranceway, Yakov stormed in, his usual displeasure evident in his expression. So harsh and unnecessary for the early morning, Victor thought.

“Get your bird down and make him cease that wretched noise!”

Yuuri landed at Victor’s side, chattering quietly in disappointment. With only a brief glance around, Victor saw shadows in the corners of the courtyard and faces gazing from the upper-floor windows—palace residents drawn out by Yuuri’s song. It would have woven into the heart of every listener, a beckoning call. As irresistible as when Victor had first heard it and been compelled to plunge into a cold and angry ocean, just to be nearer to it. _Save me_ , Yuuri’s song had called back then. That magic was still wound, unyielding, around Victor’s heart.

“Good morning, commodore!” Victor greeted, bowing his head. “But what bad manners, sir, to show your new prince and his mate. I dare say, such insolence is grounds for a duel, is it not? I understand if the prospect frightens you, though. As I recall, you lost the one prior.”

As Yakov scowled, Victor grinned, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s waist. If he was to stay and be made into a ruler, he would do so in his own way with his husband at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music for chapter two, from Joey's Piano](https://joeys-piano.tumblr.com/post/186773327966/headphones-recommended-prompted-dedicated)


	4. Gathering

Guang Hong patted the front of his vest for around about the hundredth time, making sure the papers were still tucked securely into the inside pocket he had stitched in himself. He had never sewn anything before, but Otabek had shown him how, assuring him that the most difficult part was getting the thread through the needle. Guang Hong had come out of the lesson with prickled fingertips and a self-managed improvement to his vest. It was not the neatest handiwork, but no one else would see the messy loops and he was proud of accomplishing it on his own.

The ship had docked in their usual port, their supplies of food and drink having run low. They had followed Mari’s directions to two siren nests. The first had yielded a male siren that balked at being approached by humans, refusing to listen to Mari’s firm words or respond to anyone on board. No amount of explanations, warning, or bribes chipped away at his stony resolve and it was not long before the siren launched an attack at their sails. He was stopped only by Mari’s intervention, as Mila had ordered all on board to hold their fire and holster all weapons. Mari’s wings had protected the ship from brute impact, but they had not protected those on board from the screeched command of the siren, demanding that they leave.

Shivers still ran up Guang Hong’s spine as he remembered how the sound of that voice had flooded him, filling him with the promise that an immediate departure would bring treasures upon treasures, bliss upon bliss. Even Mari had been helpless to stop the crew from immediately working to turn the ship around, sailing away from the siren’s nest. The magic had faded by sundown, leaving Guang Hong with a hollow feeling in his chest where the warmth of that voice had delved. By then, they were far from the nest, strapped with the knowledge that attempting to go back would only result in a fate far less kind.

The second nest they had sailed to was empty, Mari returning from a clifftop with a grim expression. She muttered that it appeared to have been abandoned at least two weeks prior, and that it did not appear to have been left by a siren who intended on a long flight. She could not be certain and they anchored near the nest, waiting for another week on less-than-forgiving waters to no avail. They had departed with a weight settled over the ship.

“Stay close to me and remember to try not to touch your face.” Mila emerged from the captain’s cabin, Mari at her side. In the absence of the captain and his mate, Yuuri’s sister had been given their room, and no one on the crew had protested. From the stories Guang Hong had heard from Minami, Yuuri had been eager to fit in when he had made the decision to live on the ship. Mari was not hostile but neither was she eager to assimilate, often flying ahead of the ship or staying perched on the crow’s nest rather than spending her time on deck.

Mila had dressed the siren in her clothing, hiding the markings on her legs beneath long skirts and those on her arms with long lace gloves. The markings on Mari’s face had been painted over and coated in skin-toned powder that Emil helped Mila to mix. They had let down her hair from the ribbon she normally wore across the top of her head, using the rogue black strands to further hide the markings in case the paint rubbed thin.

Mari scowled, fussing with the gloves and shaking her head. Mila let her, though she reached over and pulled forward strands of hair to frame them around Mari’s face. She seemed amused, certainly more comfortable than anyone else on board when it came to dealing with the new siren. Guang Hong found them both rather intimidating, since Mila’s barked orders were as effective as the siren’s at making all those who heard them obey.

Beside him, Minami was bouncing on his heels, excited to observe how Mari reacted to port. He had fluttered around Mari earlier, making comments about how her brother loved the markets and loved the taverns and loved the food and loved the—he had been glared away at that point, although he had looked neither frightened nor discouraged by it.

“Let’s go,” Mila called out once she had deemed Mari ready. “You all know the plan.”

Guang Hong did not consider it to be much of a plan. Go out, purchase supplies, and get as much information as they could. Ports like this one were reportedly good for gathering intelligence. Merchants with less-than-honest logbooks and other pirates often stopped in, making it a hub for chatter and gossip. If anyone happened to notice that Victor and his companion were missing, the crew’s story was that they were honeymooning. On a private island somewhere, enjoying the surf and each other. That was, unless word came back otherwise. It had been long enough. If the naval ships had made good speed, they would already be at the capital.

Mari tailed after Mila, her dark eyes shooting daggers at a deckhand who ducked past her, rushing off ahead. Had Mari been the siren aboard when Guang Hong had joined the crew, he would have surely ended up dead. Mari was a lot less forgiving than her brother, and so far it seemed like she could not be bribed with mangoes or with toy ships. Guang Hong had tried offering her crackers one dinner, as she carved up a fresh fish with a dagger. She had not even blinked in his direction, ignoring him in favor of tossing fish guts to the chickens. At least she had not bitten off the head while making direct eye contact with him, like she had done a previous evening when Chris had tried to engage her with compliments. Wild sirens were a wonder, and Guang Hong could understand Minami’s fascination.

He trailed after the two women and the rest of the crew, purposely falling back. He had his own goals to accomplish. They had agreed to meet at a tavern situated at the outskirts of the town come sundown, to pool together any learned knowledge and discuss where to go from there. Their success rate for converting sirens had been naught for all. A few more like that and they might find their ship missing its captain and abandoned by the siren on board. Guang Hong would not blame Mari for taking off, if she did. She might have better luck if she were not stuck hauling a shipful of humans.

As the silhouettes of pirates disappeared into the town, Guang Hong broke left, taking a small alley rather than continuing on the main street. He did not think anyone would follow, but he checked behind him every couple of blocks, keeping himself to the shadows and his head down when any town resident passed by him. Guang Hong had not used the back alleys the last time they were here, but he could visualize the relative layout of the town in his head and referenced his movements that way. He found the post station, having made only one wrong turn and backtracked quickly when he realized his mistake.

There was someone else at the counter, so Guang Hong hung back, his heart’s pace racing. He had noticed that he had built muscle in his arms and legs, a result of his work on the ship. In terms of cardio, however, he was still winded relatively easily. He should help Minami more with his cleaning deck duties, since that involved running rags up and down the wooden planks.

Soon, the post station was vacated, leaving only him and the postmaster who cast him a half-amused look of recognition. Guang Hong rushed to the counter, digging out the letter from the inside pocket of his vest. He had already addressed and sealed it, and he had enough coins in his pockets to pay the fees. “I’d like to send this, please,” he said, sliding the letter across the counter.

“Same as before, huh?” the postmaster remarked, accepting the letter and checking the destination marked. “Should have a packet ship going out that way in about a week.”

Guang Hong nodded, digging out enough silver from his pockets to cover the fee. “You remember me?”

“Not too many letters being sent from here to the Queen’s territory. You got yourself a lass in waiting?”

“Something like that,” Guang Hong muttered. He knew it was risky, especially since they were living the consequences of the last time information from their ship ended up in the wrong hands. However, he had been more cautious with what he wrote, disguising words so that only Leo would know their meaning. “Did anything come for me?” he asked, not daring to sound hopeful.

“Why, I believe it did. Let me see here now. The name on it would be?” The man replied, tracking back to the shelves of post and letters, all organized in a manner that Guang Hong did not quite understand. Maybe with an explanation or two.

“Ji.” After Yuuri had delivered the letter from him to Leo and brought one back, Guang Hong had managed to receive one more. Not through siren post, but by simply asking Leo to write back to the port town’s station so that it might be kept for him until the next time the ship came through. He had written more letters, mailing one from each harbor they stopped in, so that at least Leo would know he remained safe.

“Ji… Ji, Ji, Ji, oh—here we go.”

Guang Hong’s pulse spiked at the sight of a familiar envelope, the neatly scripted writing on it a perfect match for Leo’s. He reached out for it as the postmaster approached, only for it to be held out of reach.

“Sorry, my boy. This one is to-be-collected upon receipt. That’ll be two more coins from you.”

He could not imagine a better thing to spend his shares on. Perhaps a decent cake and some good tea, although that hardly compared. Guang Hong threw down the coins and jumped to claim his letter a second faster than he would have if he had remained planted on the ground. The name on it was the same as before, written in Leo’s affectionate cursive: T. G. P. Ji. Guang Hong had been confused by it on the previous envelope, though Leo had provided an explanation on the pages inside by starting off the letter with salutations to “ _The Great Pirate Ji._ ” Guang Hong rather liked the title.

“Anything more I can do for you, boy?”

“No,” Guang Hong replied, his focus on the envelope now in his hands. It was thick. Leo had written him quite the novel. He would need to keep it concealed, holding off on his curiosity about the contents until he was in private. A lot of the crew liked staying in the inns while in port, so Guang Hong would have to try the same himself. He had saved up a good amount over the past few dockings. “Wait, yes! Have you heard how they’re faring? The city?”

The postmaster shrugged, rubbing at the trimmed beard on his chin. “Like I said, not much word being sent that way. Rebuilding, last I heard. After that captain of yours burned down a good portion of it. Your something-like-that doesn’t say?”

Leo had. He had written that the square had burned down and that the spreading fire had claimed a few shops and homes, but he had not said much beyond that. Guang Hong wondered what it might look like when he returned, if he ever did. “They mentioned something like that,” he replied and thanked the man, requesting that if another letter did arrive, it be kept. He departed, turning over the one in his hands and pausing right outside the door of the post station.

Guang Hong could not help but notice that the wax seal on the letter did not bear the mark of the forge, but a generic round one, although the wax itself remained the same color and consistency that Guang Hong recognized. It was as if the seal had been broken and then the wax remelted to close the envelope once again. He had worried that such a thing might happen. Guang Hong could only hope that Leo had been careful with his words.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Guang Hong aided Emil and Chris, having managed to rejoin the crew with no one remarking on his brief absence. The letter sat heavily in his breast pocket, a constant reminder as he helped haul salt and gunpowder back to the ship. Chris worked his magic with the women in the markets, drawing out gossip from both the young and the old. Sailors liked to brag to pretty girls, and Guang Hong could see how charms and a smooth tongue were an advantage. He would need to ask Chris to teach him, at least a bit.

By evening, Guang Hong was exhausted but his body was not sore. He had grown accustomed to the labor and liked being able to knock out in his hammock, come the night. Before, he would often be up into the early morning hours, reading and restless. Although he did miss a few of the luxuries of home, he had come to enjoy pirate life.

Chris patted his back as Guang Hong collapsed at the long table the crew had claimed against the back wall of the designated tavern. A tall glass of foam-topped beer was placed in front of him, meant as a reward for his assistance. Guang Hong did not reach out for it, wary. He had stayed away from the ale on the ship, not enjoying it the first few times he had been given portions of it. However, his throat was parched and he was hopeful.

Fingers twitching toward the glass, Guang Hong yelped and sprang up into a proper sitting position when Mari dropped into the seat beside him. She scratched at her wrists, peeling off the lace gloves and tossing them onto the table in irritation.

“Mari…” Mila had taken a seat across the table, calling her name quietly but firmly. “Not here. Not yet.”

While Yuuri’s markings were black and thus easier to overlook, Mari’s were a dark mauve that matched her wings. Mari scowled, concealing her hands beneath the table.

Guang Hong reached over the table and grabbed the gloves, scooting them back over to their side. “Ummm, if they’re itchy, Emil has a salve that’s good for that. I used it a lot when I joined.” His skin had been irritable when healing from rope burns, and the cooling salve Emil made from aloe succulents had been of significant relief. “He’ll be happy to give you a jar if you ask… or demand.”

Mari looked straight at him, her expression blank. She did not respond directly, instead taking the gloves and slipping them back on. The paint on her face appeared to have fared well, hiding the tiny feathers by her ears. She had, however, tied her bangs back with the ribbon once more. Even with the permanent scowl on her face, her beauty was undeniable. The natural appeal of a siren was indeed dangerous. Guang Hong was more frightened of her than the prospect of a pirate’s hanging and yet he could not bring himself to move away now that he was beside her.

A moment later, Minami plopped down next to Mila, grinning from ear to ear. Obviously, he had a good day out following her and Mari around. Over the course of a half hour, the rest of the crew trickled in, partaking in the food and drink that was passed around. Guang Hong loaded his plate with thick cuts of roasted beef and the fresh vegetables on offer. He cut into a whole tomato and ate it together with the meat, the taste and firm texture refreshing after a lack of colored foods aboard the ship.

Mari watched the passing dishes with narrowed eyes, plucking out a little bit of everything to sample. She dismissed the well-cooked veal and forwent the baked fish, settling on the same options that were on Guang Hong’s plate. Somehow, he felt an odd sense of accomplishment at that. Across the table, Minami scrambled to mimic. He had just filled his plate when Chris came by, waving the deckhand off toward a different seat so that he could speak to Mila in a hushed tone. They were close enough that Guang Hong could make out their words.

“—claimed to have caught a siren.”

“We heard,” Mila responded, speaking into the rim of her mug of mulled wine. “It’s spreading. The fur traders were talking about silk nets and showed off a feather they claimed came off a siren. Mari nearly ate one of them.”

“It was real?” Chris asked, glancing over at the siren.

Mari nodded, her mouth set thin.

“Well, we don’t know how they got hold of it. The sailors that traded it might have caught a siren, or they just got lucky with that feather,” Mila said, shaking her head. “I prefer to think it was the latter.”

“We need to act as if it’s the former,” Chris replied, casting a glance toward Mari. “Can you recognize feathers?”

Mari shrugged, then shook her head.

“If she knows the siren it belongs to, she told me that she can,” Mila supplied. “She didn’t know this one.”

“So that’s a third.”

“Fourth,” Guang Hong piped in, shrinking down when three sets of intense eyes suddenly turned on him. “Ummm, Kenji mentioned there was a parrot-colored siren that went missing. Before… before this.”

Mila nodded. “Freckles is right. Mari said his nest isn’t far from here. We could check there next.”

Guang Hong leaned back, shying away. As the discussion continued, he kept his ears perked as he wrapped both hands around his glass of beer. He pulled it to his lips and took a sip, the golden drink flooding his mouth. Sputtering, Guang Hong jerked back and stuck out his tongue in distaste. Nope. No, no, no. It was not as bitter as the ale on board, but no. Guang Hong shoved the glass away from himself, his nose scrunched. Chris noticed, chuckling lightly, while Mila rolled her eyes. That was fine, Guang Hong was expecting to be judged.

An elbow nudged against his side and Guang Hong shifted away, turning to apologize. Instead of an irritated siren, he was met by wide brown eyes. Mari’s head was slightly tilted and the beer glass by her plate was empty.

“Oh,” Guang Hong exhaled in realization. “You can have it?”

Without waiting another second, Mari snatched the glass and downed half of it in one go. The trill of a pleased and quiet chirr escaped from her, the corners of her lips giving a twitch. Guang Hong’s heart tripped over itself, skipping a beat in his chest, and he forced himself to face away, blush stinging his cheeks. Sirens and their magic—it was an absolutely unfair advantage.

“I had quite a few people inquiring about Victor.”

“Of course. A ship comes in without its captain, naturally heads will turn. I heard the question of a mutiny,” Mila replied, knife and fork abandoned on her plate. “And many more are wondering where his beautiful companion went.”

“They’re off romancing.” Chris waved a hand. It was only half a lie. The captain and his siren were not the type to let anything get between them. Whatever the Queen and the navy wanted with them, they would surely make it out together and fighting. “I had hoped that we might be hearing whispers.”

“It’s too soon. They’ll barely have arrived,” Mila said. “Rumors don’t spread that quickly when there’s an ocean in between. Victor will make sure we get word as soon as he’s able.”

“If they haven’t hung him,” came a murmur from a few seats down, where Yuri sat alert and clearly straining to follow the conversation. Looking down the line, he was not the only one. Those nearby had been listening as well, and those beyond them whispered to one another, passing down tidbits.

“If he’s hung, we’ll be wasting our time on a fool’s errand,” a gunner muttered, expression bitter over his drink.

Mila glared as a few echoed the sentiment, discouragement evident. “You think they’d send a fleet just to hang him?!” she called, her voice stern as she commanded attention. “For how many years have we raided ships and shores, and yet never had the navy pursue us? That isn’t Lady Luck flirting with us, that’ll have been on royal orders. They want him well and breathing, and they’ll have a reason for it.”

“Maybe they’ll go ahead and crown him King,” Yuri drawled, sarcasm heavy.

Robust laughter rang the length of the table. Emil snorted into his drink, coughing and requiring a pat on the back from the powder monkey beside him.

“A pirate king. We’d have it made, gentlemen,” Chris chuckled.

The discouragement was not unearned, Guang Hong could admit. If they kept sailing to find only rejection and empty nests, it would mean precious time lost to no results. Each siren nest approached was a risk, even with Mari to accompany them. Everyone’s worries were the same: that sooner or later, they would happen upon a siren that gave a command of death.

Talk continued, concerns and suggestions traded back and forth. Mila nodded at some when they reached her ears and glowered down others. All in all, they could only continue with much of the same. Search for nests and deliver warnings, until news came of the fate of their captain.

As the dinner wound down and the drink pitchers emptied, the conversations at the table grew more boisterous. Luckily, all seemed to have more sense than to discuss the matters of sirens and pirate kings so loudly. Guang Hong had an idea, but there was information he needed to check before he brought it up. From what he remembered of Minami’s numerous stories, Victor had an ally ship captained by an old shipmate that owed Yuuri a great favor. If they were willing to help, another ship meant more area covered, more information gathered, with word spread quicker and allies more readily gained. That all would depend on how reliable and trustworthy said ship would turn out to be.

The night grew long and members of the crew broke off to seek beds or entertainment elsewhere. There was an inn beside the tavern and Guang Hong intended to drag himself there, to purchase a night in a firm bed and time to read his letter in private. He did not want to field questions in regards to it and risk angering any who might oppose him sending word out from the ship.

Guang Hong departed along with Minami, hoping to ask him about the other crew. They had left their share of silver for the meal and were headed for the tavern door when Guang Hong heard his family name being uttered. No one on the ship referred to him by it. He jerked around. Two rough-looking men were seated at a corner table, their gazes trained on him.

“Oy! Ain’t you the missing Ji boy? Lookin’ an awful lot like ’im, based on ’em posters.”

“Nobleblood’s offering a good few pieces for your return. You consorting with pirates or in need of a rescue, kid?”

Guang Hong took a step back, shaking his head. His back hit the door frame at an angle, causing him to flinch from the spear of pain shooting down his spine.

“I reckon you are. Come a bit closer, will you?” The men rose, hands already drifting to the guns strung to their belts. Guang Hong glimpsed tattoos on the insides of both their wrists, of a blackened death’s head. Pirates. And not of the friendly variety.

Guang Hong had his dagger on him and he could run. If he broke left going out of the doors, he could take an alley and lose them around sharp corners. However, they were far from the harbor and he did not know the town layout well enough to hide, plus he would be playing odds with their aim and the range on their firearms.

The decision was made for him, when an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Guang Hong started, wrenching his head back and readying to sink his elbow into a belly. He stopped himself mid-motion, as it was Emil who had slunk behind him.

“You’re mistaken, gentlemen,” Emil said, bowing with a flourish. “There’s no nobleblood to be found within this crew.”

“Talk’s cheap when your crew’s led by a navy man,” one of them barked back, drawing a knife from its leather sheath. “Hand over the kid. We’ll even pay you.”

“Not as much as he’s worth, mind you. Consider the delivery fee.”

Guang Hong’s hands shook as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his dagger. He knew how to use it now. Kind of.

He did not get the chance.

Mari crossed between them, glaring down the men. “Sit,” she instructed and the men sat, rigid as if glued to their seats. Guang Hong fought the urge to sit as well, his senses attempting to convince him that the floor below him would be the most comfortable place to be. “Stay,” she continued, her tone one of boredom. “And forget what you saw. You’ll speak of this to no one.”

Guang Hong’s tongue attempted to tie itself into a knot within his mouth, able to resist the commands only because they were not aimed at him. At least, in the moment. The offending pirates remained in their chairs, their expressions dazed and confused. They glanced around the tavern, as if just realizing their surroundings. Guang Hong bit back a laugh of relief.

Mari turned, addressing him next. “Leave.”

Guang Hong left, rushing out as fast as his legs would carry him. Emil was right at his side, also compelled by a siren’s order. Neither of them stopped, unable to, until they reached the wooden planks of the docks all the way across town.

Mari had followed them, her footfalls soft at their backs. When Guang Hong and Emil finally paused, she passed them by, casting them a fleeting glance over her shoulder. Her mouth formed a quarter-smile and she offered the briefest chirp before heading back to the anchored ship without a single pause in her step.

It took several minutes of perplexion for it to process. The chirp had been one of gratitude, an exchange for the drink earlier on. Well, perhaps he had found Mari’s bribe.

Guang Hong abandoned his plan to spend the night at an inn, electing to stay on the ship, with the protection of a siren and a few other crew members on board. The letter could wait till morning. His safety would be less forgiving.

Sleep did not come easily that night, like he had thought. Guang Hong was aware of every creak of wood, every slosh of the gentle waves against the ship’s belly. Among all the threats they faced, he had not considered himself to be one of them, too wrapped up in his adventure. The sole son of the Ji family, gone missing amid a pirate raid. Of course he would be looked for.

When he finally peeled back the wax on his received envelope, two days later with the ship back at sea and the crew quarters emptied to the work required up on deck, Leo’s letter confirmed it. A sailor passing through the city had carried a rumor of spotting Guang Hong of Ji in port with Nikiforov’s crew, kept captive by the pirates. Leo wrote that his family was relieved and angered, and that they had offered enough gold for a pirate to afford retirement in exchange for his safe return. A frenzy had resulted, with sailors, merchants, and even navy men bringing by look-alikes, with more coming by to offer baseless claims of how they had also seen Guang Hong somewhere on pirate waters.

The last line in the letter gave Guang Hong pause, with Leo’s script turning to printed block letters. _Tell me where, Ji, and we will rescue you._ Leo knew, though, Leo knew that Guang Hong was on board of his own accord. The first letter he had written Leo had mentioned his anguish, his disappointment, but that had changed. If Leo still thought that Guang Hong needed an out, Guang Hong would not be able to convince him without letting too much slip in his response. He needed to protect Leo, he needed to protect the crew, and he needed to protect himself. To plan for the worst and to take that into account going forward, even if the role he had to play was not a significant one.

Overhead, a multitude of boots ran to the portside railing, and the ship jerked with the sudden turn of the rudder. Stuffing the letter pages inside his pillowcase, Guang Hong dropped from his hammock and sprinted up the quarters’ stairs onto the main deck. All eyes on board were aimed in one direction.

Midway to the horizon was the silhouette of a ship in retreat, barely fending off the shadow of an attacking siren. At the helm, Mari screeched with recognition. Her wings burst from her back and she took to the clouds, streaking toward the skyline.

By the look of things, Guang Hong was not the one in need of rescuing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter four art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/187154083128/some-art-for-sirens-court-chapter-4-w-gh-and)


	5. A Pirate's Pardon

There were aspects to palace life that Yuuri supposed he could grow to like. They had dined with the Queen the previous evening and when Yuuri had gazed in distaste at the cooked courses, servers had been immediately sent out to fetch him meat that was fresh and still rare. The rest of the meal was rich and filling, ending with hot honey tea and a sweet cake filled with ripe fruit that had chirps escaping Yuuri despite his best efforts.

Yuuri had been given a room wide enough for him to stretch his wings in, with a firm bed and windows that looked out toward the ocean. He had not spent more than a minute inside it, remaining in Victor’s. His mate had brought him looser clothing to wear in the mornings and evenings, when they had their moments in private. Yuuri had asked Victor about his robes, left back on the naval ship, and had received only a grim shake of the head in response.

Having a bathtub and being able to use it daily was nice. The salt of the ocean water tended to build up in his hair and make it coarse. Hot fresh water with pleasantly scented soaps was an absolute delight. Yuuri stretched his wings in the bathroom and splashed water over his feathers, though he did not really need to. Being held within the palace grounds meant no hunting. Yuuri did not think he liked the idea of perpetually clean feathers.

There was one aspect of palace life that Yuuri truly did not enjoy: the attempts of the attendants to touch him.

“Please, s-sir. It’ll… it’ll only take a moment.”

Victor was meant to partake in a pardoning ceremony that day. It would be held within the palace, with only the royal court and high-ranking members of Lilia’s military in attendance. A formal announcement had been made. The public would be aware that Victor had returned to the service of the Queen, that his crimes would be forgiven, and that he would demonstrate his loyalty by giving up locations of other wanted pirates. The decision to have him assume the position of heir to the kingdom had not yet been revealed, though it was not difficult to see where intentions were headed. Yuuri was also meant to attend, presented less than formally as Victor’s right-hand companion.

When the morning arrived, Yuuri had been separated from Victor in preparation for the ceremony. He had paced around their room, wearing the carpet thin, until nervous attendants had come by to deliver him clothing and offer assistance in dressing him. Yuuri had refused wordlessly, feathers sprouting from his markings and hands transforming into taloned claws when they tried to approach him. He did not want to give commands, but he also did not want to be touched. Yuuri had done as they had asked. He had dressed himself, struggling with the stiff and layered clothing, but he had managed. And yet, they wanted more from him, not leaving him be. They wanted the sleeves folded just so, wanted the buttons to link just so, wanted his hair styled just so. Yuuri was on the verge of telling the woman trembling just out of arm’s reach that it had been far too long since he had eaten a human.

The parted doors to the room opened further and Yuuri’s gaze landed on Lilia. She was not in a gown, instead wearing a commander’s military uniform with crests on her breast and a sword on her hip. She looked smaller without the skirts of a gown, thinner. Her high cheekbones carried her stern expression well, though if Yuuri focused closer, he could see how they led up into the lines of her skin and the peppered grey hair at her temples. Humans aged in such obvious ways. She was frailer than she was permitting herself to appear.

“Your Majesty…”

“Leave,” Lilia said, waving a hand in dismissal. The attendants hastily bowed and fled, not daring to hesitate or look back.

Yuuri let out a chattering chirp of irritation, though the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He was unsure of her intentions but he did recognize that it had been Lilia who had kept Victor safe at sea even after he had abandoned her. For that, he was grateful. Dinner the previous evening had not been comfortable, largely silent with only occasional words exchanged between her and Victor. Lilia had, however, continued to refer to Yuuri as Victor’s husband, as his mate. In truth, Yuuri wanted to put his faith in her. After all, she was family.

“I hear you are causing trouble for my attendants,” Lilia called, remaining in the doorway rather than attempting to approach. “They are only here to help you.”

Yuuri scowled in response, shrugging his shoulders. He did not require help. He was not so unfamiliar with human habits that he could not dress himself in their ridiculous clothing. While he did not see the point of so many layers, of undergarments, of shirts under vests under coats, he could still put them onto himself. It was simply his dislike of how the long sleeves and fitted trousers restricted his feathers, keeping his markings concealed as if they were something shameful. If Lilia wanted a siren in her court, she should permit him to appear as himself and not some dolled-up pet.

“I am not certain if you are aware, but you are meant to bow to royalty,” Lilia said, holding herself without a hint of the fear that had overwhelmed her attendants. “When approached, when addressed, when expressing gratitude.”

“If Victor is to be king, would that not make me royal?” Yuuri asked in defiance. He had no intention of bowing. Sirens bowed their heads to each other to show a bond, to show trust. To bow was to take one’s eyes off a potential predator. Yuuri was not ready to take his eyes off anyone in the capital.

“If you are wed to him, you are already royal,” Lilia replied, her gaze studying the clothing in which Yuuri had dressed himself. “As such, will you permit me to help you look like a royal? I imagine a siren would take pride in their appearance, especially when standing by their mate.”

Yuuri prickled, hesitating. Victor would be appearing before those that would serve and protect him from his pardoning on. Yuuri would need to make a good impression, so that they could spend their time in the palace with efficiency. Victor had gained the loyalty of his crew through respect, not through fear. They would need to do the same here. Nodding, Yuuri allowed Lilia to approach.

As Lilia moved, she made a point of showing Yuuri her hands and speaking her intentions. She tugged sharply at the pressed lines of the trousers, straightening the fabric. She did the same to the hem of his jacket, stating that she was going to fix the button lacing before proceeding to do so. Yuuri understood why. By explaining what she was doing, she was preventing him from startling and protecting herself at the same time. It calmed his nerves, knowing where exactly was about to be plucked and prodded. Victor had done the same, when Yuuri had first ended up on his ship. He wondered what else was a result of her influence.

Lilia smoothed down his shoulders, straightening the sleeves and then retying the silk cravat at his throat. Yuuri stiffened, spine rigid, fingers curled at his sides and ready to strike. Her movements remained gentle and as soon as she was done, she stepped away. “Better. May I attend to your hair as well?”

Yuuri did not respond immediately. He was apprehensive. Every minute in the palace was like waiting for a strike to come and he did not doubt that it would fall when it was least expected, when they were the most vulnerable. Their sleep at night was uneasy, even with the doors locked and the windows bolted. He wondered if they would ever be able to sleep peacefully again.

“My dear, a queen does not ask permission twice.”

Turning, Yuuri took a seat in the chair in front of the vanity, his back to Lilia but his eyes trained on her reflection in the mirror. She took a brush to his hair like the attendants had wanted to, sweeping back the softened strands. There was a hair oil that the attendants had brought and she used it to keep his hair from falling back around his face, bangs brushed back and face cleared. The markings around his ears were strikingly evident. Yuuri was used to concealing them when in the presence of other humans.

“Will you tell me what happened when Yakov found you? I fear that neither him nor Victor would provide an accurate retelling. They are both beyond stubborn. Like father, like son.”

An accurate statement. Although, Yuuri’s version would also be biased, swayed by his love for his mate and his desire to protect his species. Humans were not meant to present as an enemy to sirens, they were meant to be prey. The balance had tipped and it was unsettling. Yuuri intended to hold onto every sliver of influence and power that he had. He kept silent.

Scoffing, Lilia lay down the brush and stepped away. She crossed the room, fetching paper and a quill. They were set down onto the vanity before him, Lilia then retaking the brush. “I appreciate your consideration. I have spent my entire life with those in my presence being forced to listen to my words, I would not object to the opposite this once. I promise I have no tricks up my sleeve to capture your voice, though you may write instead if you wish to preserve it.”

Wordless, Yuuri plucked up the quill. The feather was sleek and long, from the left wing of a black swan. Yuuri had seen such quills in the port markets, their price marked in gold rather than silver. No doubt there would be humans who would pay an entire bounty for a siren quill. Yuuri dipped the metal-bound tip into an ink well and set it to paper.

* * *

“How did they find us?!” Victor hissed under his breath as he scrambled to help Takeshi and Yuuri cover up the opening in the cliff-face with thickly woven fabric the sirens had made specifically to camouflage the entrance to their nest. It would rarely be used to hide outside of the molting season, perhaps deployed during a particularly harsh storm but otherwise deemed unnecessary. The only creatures that posed a challenge to a siren was a murder of harpies, though they had enough sense not to threaten a nest unless pressed or starving.

Yuuko shuffled her girls further into the protection of the cave, her expression twisted with worry despite the reassurances she whispered to her daughters. A ship was no concern, neither were several. An entire fleet, however… that was unprecedented. Yuuri had dreamed of it, of taking out hundreds of ships with his wings and his claws in order to protect his mate. However, that was before humans learned that sirens had weaknesses that could be exploited.

“They followed us?” Yuuri tried, his voice tight in his throat. He had brought Victor here, to ask for help, and yet instead he had brought a larger threat with them. The ships were not turned in the direction of the port; their figureheads were aimed squarely at the Nishigori nest. “H-how did they know?!”

“Someone talked.”

Yuuri had wanted to stammer an apology to Takeshi, yet the moment they had the entrance cover secured, he left their side, gone to attend to his family. The glance he cast toward Yuuri was a cutting one.

Someone must have talked. Not here, but in a previous port. A single mention of their crew heading north would be enough for someone with a decent head. Victor had suspected siren nests marked on all of his maps, cliff sides and island beaches where ships were known to disappear without a trace or rumors of sightings were numerous. Other sailors would have the same. Siren nest, do not approach. Those annotations would be changing. A siren family with three daughters made for a lot of mouths to feed. The unusually high number of vanished ships around their cliff would not have gone unnoticed.

“Victor, that ship…” The warship that led the fleet stood stark in Yuuri’s memory. Although it was too far off to make out the men on board, they both knew who commanded it.

“If it’s him, maybe he’ll listen.” The words themselves were more hopeful than Victor’s tone.

“Lilia said…”

Victor offered a weak smile. “As you know, lovebird, humans have a tendency to lie when it benefits them.”

Yuuri was lost. The world was railing against them and he had felt helpless like this only once before. Trapped within the confines of a silk net, weak from an unsuccessful mating season, he had been ready to succumb to the same waves to which he had sentenced his attackers. Victor had saved him then; perhaps his mate could perform another miracle and save all of them now. “We have to meet them.” To let them approach any further would mean further endangering the nest, an immediate loss at the start of their quest. With the force of a fleet of cannons, the cliff would hardly be able to stand as a defense.

“They’ll be hunting you, lovebird,” Victor replied, reaching out for Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri was aware. He was the reason Victor had been pursued in the first place, and the reason sirens were being threatened now. All for the foolish goal of love. They would need to face the consequences of their union eventually. “Let them try.”

When Victor smiled, it made Yuuri’s heart soar and granted him a spark of confidence. They had yet to fail in an adventure undertaken together. What a marvelous addition it would make to Minami’s reclaimed sketchbook, the tale of how a siren and his captain had taken out an entire fleet.

There was another exit to the cave, further below, hidden by rocks and half-flooded by the tide. Takeshi led them to it and they made their way carefully across the icy cliff until Yuuri found a spot where he could spread his wings. The wind was beginning to howl and the snow danced with malice.

“Watch their guns when you approach,” Victor muttered against Yuuri’s feathered cheek, his markings having spread again upon exposure to the cold. “You know their range, keep high enough so they don’t hit you. If it isn’t him or Lilia, we do not land.”

Yuuri was not sure if they would have any other choice. Three sirens against a fleet, they might have a chance. It would require asking Yuuko and Takeshi to risk their lives, however, and Yuuri could not do that knowing they had their girls to take care of. With Victor secure in his arms, Yuuri took to the sky, pushing himself directly at the fleet. The white of their sails obscured both the clouds and the sea.

Keeping cover in the clouds, Yuuri flew them closer to the fleet, focused on the ship at the fore. At its helm stood the commodore, his uniform properly fitted though he kept his hat gripped at his side. Victor inhaled sharply. Yuuri held on. Victor would be witnessing his guardian, his father, back from the dead at what he thought had been his own hand. They had no time to let that sink in. “Victor?”

“Take us down,” Victor said through a steeled jaw, turning his blue eyes to Yuuri. There was no joy within them, no relief. “And be careful, lovebird. If there’s any sign of things going bad, I want you to fly. They won’t harm me here and I know you’ll come save me.”

Nodding, Yuuri exhaled his nerves and dropped them through the clouds. Instantly, he heard shouts and witnessed the barrels of guns come to point at them. He swooped in at speed and in a curve, not about to provide an easy shot to anyone witless enough to try.

Had he been on his own, Yuuri would have landed heavily, shaking the wood of the ship deck under his feet and sweeping men overboard with the force of his wings. With Victor in his arms, he chose to land lightly, setting his mate down beside him mere steps from the commodore’s position. The crewmen aboard the ship and the ships near them all went rigid, their weapons trained on Victor and Yuuri. If attacked now, their chances of escape were slim. For a siren, the best possible death came at their mate’s side. Yuuri half-furled his wings, blocking him and Victor from view at all but the front.

“Commodore,” Victor greeted, his neutral tone strained. “I had been informed that you were no longer with us. What an unwelcome surprise.”

“I taught you better than to make assumptions,” Yakov answered, stepping forward.

Yuuri’s hands snapped into taloned claws. He did not raise them, but Yakov stopped, apprehensive. A storm could have descended then and thrashed the ship, yet none of them would have shifted. Tension sat in the air, thicker than the snow starting to stick to the railings.

“I assume you have not come back from the grave in order to feign pleasantries,” Victor said, glancing past Yakov to try and estimate how far back the lines of ships went. “How may I be of service to the navy? Without, as you know, being of service in the navy.”

“The Queen has formally requested that you return to the capital,” Yakov growled, attention rapt on Yuuri’s claws. “I am here to escort you back to her.”

Victor let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. “Flattered as I am, I fear that I am unavailable, dear commodore. Please send her my regards and ask that she return my condolences for her lack of a loss.”

“You’re not leaving,” Yakov snapped, throwing a signal to his men. All marched forward, swords and guns in hand. Off to Yakov’s left, Yuuri saw a silk net being extended. There would be more, there had to be. They would have come ready. “You think you can outrun a fleet, Vitya? You can try. Where will you go when we take every single port that has ever dared to welcome you? When your crew deserts you, knowing full well that the full force of the Queen’s navy is at your heels? You have sailed without consequence for far too long. You want to flee? I’ll shoot your bird there from the sky and drag you back to Lilia so you can beg her for forgiveness.”

Beside him, Victor stiffened. Yuuri could sense the tension in him, could see how Victor’s body went rigid in rage. Victor’s right hand floated to his belt, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. The talons at Yuuri’s feet dug into the ship deck, carving through the wood. If Victor wanted to fight, Yuuri would stay right behind him, protecting him for as long as he could. Or he could launch them past the clouds, fly them far where they could claim an island for themselves where no one could hope to find them. Except Victor was not the type to run. And neither was he.

“Put down your sword, boy. Even you know you’re outnumbered,” Yakov barked, raising his arms. “We know your crew has landed here. I have your ship surrounded. If you surrender yourself peacefully, they’ll be left alone. The Queen has promised pardons for their past crimes…” he trailed off, the roughness of his tone betraying his disapproval, “...provided that your siren come too.”

Victor would have a plan. Victor always had a plan, a way out, a dashing and clever escape that would leave Yuuri churring with affection. Victor’s jaw was clenched tight, his knuckles white around his sword. Oh…

Yuuri could get them out. There were no ships to their rear. He could grab Victor, use his wings to take out the men closest to them. The sails above them could provide cover long enough for him to get them out of the range of the pistols. He could fly straight back to the port, take out however many ships Yakov had stationed there, using the advantage of coming without warning. Two, five, ten. Yuuri could fell that many easily if they were not expecting him. But not with Victor in his arms. Victor could gather the crew—their ship was fast enough to break ahead of Yakov’s fleet. They could regroup, use the time to figure out a new strategy. He couldn’t leave the Nishigoris, though. They would come. They would have to come. They could join with Yuuri’s family, turn to strength in numbers. There were options, they did not have to—

Shouts sounded from a companion ship off to their starboard side. A pistol sparked and fired, and then there was a screech. A siren’s screech. One which quivered, panicked and weak of magic. It was not the cry of a full-fledged siren.

Yuuri’s wings dropped as he turned. Next to him, Victor’s face had turned as pale as the sails. Bound by the trappings of a silk net, Lutz struggled in the steel-like grip of a naval officer, more men rushing forward to restrain the girl. There was a sword at her throat and guns aimed at her from all sides. Yuuri pushed his wings back and spread them, ready to rush across the ships and tear out every throat that stood between him and the girl. His first step forward was sent off balance by an elevated wave slamming against the bow of the ship.

Yuuri heard her before he saw her. The strength of Yuuko’s wings drove the snow from the sky as she barreled toward the ship, screaming a command to “Let her go! Drop her, now!” While some men had turned toward her, none obeyed. They were all deaf to the words, ears covered and hearing muted. Muskets fired upon Yuuko, forcing her to weave and halt, her eyes darting around in desperate search for a way to get to her daughter.

The officer holding Lutz raised her off the deck so her feet dangled, kicking without purchase. Her small hands clawed at his arm, drawing spots of blood from underneath her talons. He did not drop her, the blade of his sword threatening to bite into her throat. She went still, mouth parted in a silent gasp, dark eyes wide with dread.

“If either of you beasts comes nearer, she dies!”

Yuuri could ask a thousand questions, about how she had gotten there, why she had been so close to the ship, when she had slipped from the cave—but he already knew the answers. For the same reasons he and his sister had disobediently chased ships on the horizon as youths, playing with their developing magic and testing the strength of their wings. Out of curiosity, out of wonder. A fleet of ships just outside his nest—at that age, he would have desperately wanted to see it for himself as well, not quite grasping the danger. The girls were still too young to have had their first hunt. So many ships so close would have been too great a temptation to resist.

The ship was at their side and yet too far. If ears were mute to their commands, they had no advantage. If he lept or Yuuko dove, the guns trained on them would fire and the sword at Lutz’s throat would be drawn across it. Neither of them would reach her in time.

“Yakov, let her go,” Victor said, his voice and his hands trembling. “Look at her! She’s a child! She’s a little girl, look at her!”

“And she’ll grow to hunt and command men like the rest of them!” Yakov roared in response, standing his ground. “We have your game now, Vitya. These creatures can’t protect you. No men will fall to a siren’s song again. You’ve reached your end. Accept it!”

Tears glistened on Lutz’s cheeks, visible even from the distance. Above the sails of the ships, Yuuko wove, seeking for a safe point of attack and unable to find one. She wailed again, another command to release her daughter falling without effect.

“Victor…” Yuuri called to him softly, unable to find a way out for all of them. All the options he saw laid out before them ended in someone being hurt, someone being captured, someone bleeding out onto wood and the water.

The scrape of a sword being pulled from its sheath cut past Yuuri’s ears, startling him when the metal clattered across the deck of the ship a split second later. Victor ripped the belt sash from his waist, throwing his guns down as well. He thrust his arms out, hands balled into fists, the insides of his wrists facing upward. “I give in! I’ll go, peacefully and without protest. Just let the girl go!”

Uniformed men swarmed Victor, tying ropes around his wrists and chaining them moments later, restraining him fully without hesitation. When they tried to approach Yuuri, he screeched, displaying his claws as his feathers spread. He did not attack, simply keeping the men nervous and at bay. He needed to see, they needed to—

Yakov gestured to the man in command of the starboard ship and a breathless moment later, Lutz was dropped. The girl shouted, hissing insults as she struggled against the net still binding her. Yuuko plunged from the sky, dropping with the force of a cannon blast to grab her daughter and shred the silk around her.

Yuuri thrust out his wings, knocking over all those near him with their force and the wind created when he beat them against the deck. He took off, his tail out, using every inch of his feathers to provide cover to Yuuko and Lutz as they scrambled to get away from the fleet. His heart was in his throat, anxiety split between the female sirens and his mate. Victor could take care of himself, he could handle the humans. Yuuri needed to take care of his own for a moment.

“Yuuri, your mate—”

“Fly!”

He kept Yuuko and Lutz concealed behind his wings and tail, briefly glancing back. They made it back to land, although not back to the cave. They could not fly to the nest directly and give it away, taking cover in the frozen thicket of the looming forest. Lutz trembled in her mother’s arms, her feathers retreating as she sobbed out an apology broken by terror. No amount of whispered soothing nor gentle touches from Yuuko calmed her. The ache in Yuuri’s chest mangled through him.

“Yuuko, I have to go. I have to get back to Victor,” Yuuri muttered, not daring to approach in case she thrust him away. He would not blame her.

Yuuko, however, nodded in understanding when she glanced up at him, her voice trapped in her throat.

“If… if you can,” Yuuri choked past the panic beginning to build inside him, his instincts roaring at him to fly back to his mate. “In the town, there will be a red-haired woman with feathers carved into a wooden leg. Tell her to take Victor’s ship and keep going. We’ll find her when we can. Just tell her not to stop. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Without waiting for her response, Yuuri pushed his wings to the ground and took flight. His talons flexed as he sped back to the head of the fleet, damn tempted to smash through its belly and send it to the bottom of the ocean. Like he should have done the first time. Instead, he had sentenced himself and his mate, and perhaps countless sirens, to the cold steel brig of a navy warship.

* * *

The quill had run dry by the time Yuuri finished recounting the exchange with Yakov which had led to him and Victor less-than-willingly aboard the commodore’s vessel. He kept his inkings short and brief on details, refusing to give answers whenever Lilia inquired of the other sirens. He relayed only what he needed to, addressing the questions Lilia asked him as he saw fit.

When she asked him how Victor had seemed after their encounter at the festival in the sister city, Yuuri paused and then wrote, _He said his goodbyes to Yakov out on the water._

Lilia hummed at that, her fingers nimble as she adjusted a few final strands of Yuuri’s hair, binding them down with the oil she had used to style it as he wrote. Whether that response pleased her or not, she gave no indication. Yuuri wrote nothing more, capping the inkwell and setting down the quill. He was not fond of having another bird’s feather in his hand.

“Victor was not the first boy I tried to raise,” Lilia said, the brush set aside as she cleaned her hands on a cloth towel, seemingly content with Yuuri’s presentation. “I could not produce a child of my own but a ruler needs someone to pass their throne to. When Yakov brought him in, I knew immediately that he would be a handful. As you know, I was accurate in that judgment. He questioned rules as often as he followed them, though he got better with age and with his training.

“The first time he disobeyed me, it was to defend an attendant who had made a rather serious mistake. It did not involve him, yet Victor took the blame and saved the young lady from losing her place in the palace. I knew then he would make a good king. One needs to hold compassion in order to earn respect. From tales I’ve heard of his rogue conquests, it seems that remains true. Even a good ruler is not infallible and, while it may be difficult for some to see it, the people of this kingdom would do well under his influence. He may not have been aware of it but, as far as the records go, he is my son and thus is my rightful heir. The royal court approved him as such on his thirteenth birthday. No one will be able to object,” Lilia paused, laying her hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, “especially not with a siren at his side.”

Yuuri’s gaze centered on his reflection in the mirror. From the impressions he had of the humans he had seen within the palace, she had done a fine job of making him look like he belonged. The clothing sat straight and smooth, every decorative line uncreased and uninterrupted. His hair, slicked back and set in place, did nothing to conceal the feather markings at the sides of his face. Neither the attendants nor Lilia had given him gloves to wear, leaving the darkness of his hands exposed. He did not know whether he looked like someone who belonged amongst royalty. Then again, he was only learning what royalty itself looked like. He did know that he looked like he belonged at Victor’s side and that was good enough for him.

“I will not leave him,” Yuuri said, firm, letting Lilia hear the truth of his conviction through the magic in his words.

She cast him a smile, pleased and light yet seemingly forced. “That, my dear, is my hope. And I hope that the time may come when you also will be able to see me as your mother.”

Yuuri had no response to give at that. His preparation concluded, Lilia escorted him from the room and handed him off to a pair of attendants, requesting that he be “polite” with them. Yuuri said nothing once more, though he did feel slightly like shrinking. He would need to do his best, as Victor would want him to be polite as well.

Time passed slowly without his mate, and Yuuri felt captive with only frightened attendants to keep him company as he waited in a strange room. He paced, scratching at the too-tight hems of his too-long sleeves. Traded mutters came from his watchers at the edges of the room, but he ignored them, snapping to attention only when the doors were parted from the outside and he was beckoned. The pardoning ceremony was due to start.

Yuuri was flanked by guards and led to the same audience chamber he had been taken to before for their first meeting with Lilia. It was no longer void of souls, but bustling and bright in the minutes before the ceremony. Yuuri’s position was near the throne, where Lilia was already seated. Down the length of the hall were men and women, some in military uniforms, others clad in adornments more lavish than the gowns Yuuri had seen Lilia wear previously. He noticed how many of their eyes went to him and how quickly the whispers started.

“Do not shrink down. Stand proud,” came a gruff voice from behind his shoulder, Yakov coming up to take a stance at his side. “There are vultures out there looking for weakness. Do not permit them to perceive any.”

Yuuri listened, straightening his posture and taking on a steeled expression. He did not need to pretend. If he so wished, all within the hall would fall easily to his voice and his hands. A single word and even the Queen herself would bow to him. Yuuri let out a steadying breath and waited for his mate.

Victor entered the room to a formal declaration and the entire hall went still. He was in a captain’s uniform, the colors and insignias belonging to the Queen’s navy. Upon his breast sat ribbons of honor and a medal that Yuuri suspected was the one Victor had never desired. Yuuri caught his eyes as he approached, and though the glance lingered, it was gone too quickly.

Yuuri watched, his heart pounding, as Victor knelt before the Queen. He only hoped that good would come of it.

Lilia rose from her throne, stepping down to stand before Victor. “To all in attendance in this hall, I bid greetings. You are here in witness of my son, returned to us. His service to our kingdom must not be overlooked and he has come bearing gifts that are indispensable. As such, he shall be received back into the service of the Crown and reinstated in his position within the navy. I ask you to put aside your reservations and prior insults to welcome him back, as I have.” Lilia dropped her gaze from the filled hall, directing her attention to the one receiving the honor of a pardoning. “Victor.”

Humans made for easy prey, out on the water. Their large ships and the noises they made was the exact opposite of camouflage. When Yuuri hunted other prey, he needed to stay vigilant, to keep his ears perked and his eyes sharply focused. Watching for a hint, any hint of movement that would betray a potential meal. In a hall as frozen as the one they were in, the very first sign of movement which did not come from Lilia or from Victor was out of place.

From the line of men in naval uniforms, a ranked officer burst through, his fingers grasped around the hilt of his sword. “The pirate traitor shall not be forgiven! Sentence him!”

“Silence!” Lilia slashed at the air with her hand. “Restrain him!”

With a shout, the man darted forward, dragging his sword from its hilt.

Yuuri started toward Victor, ready to throw himself between them. His feathers ruffled from his markings, restricted by the tight and formal clothing, though his nails were free to lengthen and curl. The man never reached Victor. He got nowhere near, seized instantly by palace guards, the sword knocked from his hand and the man himself knocked onto his knees. The tips of lances kept him in place.

“A pirate will never be my king!”

Scowling, Lilia made a motion and the officer was hit in the back, collapsing onto all fours. She then turned toward Yuuri, glaring in demand. “Silence him! Make it so they do not speak of this!”

Yuuri went rigid and he caught the blue of Victor’s eyes again, his mate having remained unmoved. Victor responded with the slightest shake of his head. That was all Yuuri needed. Instead of calling out the order, he stepped back, retreating.

Her jaw visibly clenching, Lilia regained her posture and her position in front of her throne, commanding attention with the power of her presence alone. “Be it known that on this day, I, Queen of Kingdom Aria, have granted a full and unconditional pardon unto Victor Nikiforov, captain of the Royal Navy. Let my will be done. Now, take that rogue away!”

The offending officer was picked up by two guards and carried out, gagged to prevent him from shouting further. Yuuri had never attended a royal ceremony before, but he doubted this was the norm. Lilia was not pleased, glowering at all within the hall. “The ceremony has concluded. You are dismissed!”

The moment that Victor shifted, moving away from Lilia and the throne, Yuuri rushed to him. As the hall transitioned from stunned silence to a wave of droning murmurs, Yuuri feared they had made the wrong decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter five art](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/187654706829/crimson-chains-angry-yuri-and-a-determined)


	6. Baited

“How dare you? How dare you?!”

Lilia’s voice echoed off the ceiling, slamming against the walls of the drawing room with the force of her volume. It had been an ordeal, controlling the potential chaos of the audience chamber after the ceremony. Many in attendance fled at the first opportunity, giving the Queen no chance to change her mind in dismissing them. Others lingered, avoiding the herding guards, their stares intently shifting between the monarch, the pardoned prince, and the siren. The Queen’s command was meant to be absolute and yet the siren had defied her at once. There would be no controlling the whispers sure to spread.

“How dare you?” Victor countered, taking a position between her and Yuuri. The moment the ceremony had so informally concluded, they had been cut off from each other. Victor had been flocked by guards meant to defend him and it would have taken all of Yuuri’s self-control not to tear through them in order to protect Victor on his own. “What else did you expect, Your Majesty? I told you, he does not take orders. He isn’t another tool at your disposal!”

Victor expected dissent. There would be many within the court, within Lilia’s navy to whom he would have brought harm over his years at sea. Seized merchant ships would have damaged the pockets of investing nobles, conflicts with privateers would mean family members who never returned home. He was well aware that turning his back to anyone within the court, no matter how receptive they seemed, would be risking a knife to the spine. Opposition was far more dangerous when it hid in the shadows behind false smiles, rather than when loud and out in the open. Literally silencing it was more perilous than facing it head on.

“That is not my concern!” Lilia roared, her hands in fists at her sides. She paced a short distance, her eyes daggers in Yuuri’s direction. “You! Siren! Answer me, if you have any power in your voice at all. You have your supposed mate before you and yet you do not act to defend him from an assault?!”

At Victor’s back, Yuuri bristled. Victor feared that within moments, he might witness how a siren’s claws could twist the steel of a queen’s blade.

“Just because you did not get to see it does not mean he wouldn’t defend me,” Victor said, moving an arm behind himself, touching a hand to Yuuri’s wrist to settle him. “Is that what you wanted? An attack on my life to demonstrate his power to anyone who might question my position? To rule by fear? By threat?!”

“My intention was to show that dissent will not stand within my court!”

Under his hand, Victor felt Yuuri’s tension lessen though only by a fraction. Attempting to calm himself, no doubt. Yuuri was being forced to restrain himself, in every way—to hide his wings, his voice, his will, his very nature. A snap would be coming and Victor did not intend to stand in its way. "To plan such chaos…”

“I made no such plans,” Lilia dismissed, waving a hand at Victor. “Don’t be a fool, Vitya. I would not have allowed for such a mess. But I had expected that if anything went awry, your so-called husband would do more than stand in silence and gawk!”

“Can you not understand that he isn’t a toy for you to manipulate?” Victor demanded. He would not have been shocked if Lilia had invited the officer with the knowledge that he opposed Victor and was likely to take rash action. Understandable, really. Dissent was better out in the open, where it could be quelled in front of other doubters. Her reaction, however, had been far too impulsive for something so expected. “For you to test your authority on? Have you truly spent so long with all those around you blindly following your orders that you don’t realize what a foul idea it would be for him to issue commands to the masses like that?”

Having Yuuri command silence might seem like a simple solution, but Victor knew how to manipulate siren commands. If he had figured it out, others would as well. A command not to speak could easily be subverted through written notes. If a question were posed about the ceremony, pure silence would carry as much weight as a confession, if not more.

“I expected him not to listen to me, but if he does not come to your aid when you are in need, then why is he here?” Lilia demanded as she gripped onto the back of the sofa beside her, grounding herself. “Your presence here will be questioned, will be challenged! I expect that. And do as I might, there is little I can do to protect you if someone truly wishes to make attempts on your life. He, however,” Lilia jabbed a finger in Yuuri’s direction, “is meant to be the barrier that no one can penetrate! If he does not act as your guard, this is meaningless! Now how many people have witnessed him failing to step up to protect you? They will see a siren who has chosen not to defend you, despite the stories they’ve heard. Doubts will fester, Vitya, and more will come to challenge you. Having a siren at your side is meant to benefit you, not to be a catalyst for a rebellion!”

“You brought him here to use him, but he will not be used,” Victor argued, taking a stride forward. “I thought maybe you understood what we are to each other. He is not my bodyguard. He is not my servant, like you expect Yakov to be to you!” The commodore had stood behind the queen the entire time, ready to come to her aid and command at a moment’s notice. His expression barely stiffened at the insult.

“My boy, it is you who do not understand what you are—”

“Silence,” Yuuri spoke softly, instantly cutting off all sound in the room. Lilia’s biting tongue went still, her eyes widening. Victor glanced back at Yuuri, his mate standing straight, his expression fierce. “I told you, Victor is my mate and I will not leave his side. If that man had gotten near him, I would have torn him limb from limb, as I did with the privateer who came after us on your command. But you’re mistaken if you think Victor cannot defend himself. Your guards should have let that man attack him. Then everyone would have seen that Victor does not need a siren to protect him. He can put down a soldier on his own with ease.”

Victor smiled, flooding with relief. Yuuri had been keeping quiet to preserve the power of his voice, but it gave off a meek impression. The palace they were in, the world they had been thrust into was new and uncertain. He had been waiting for Yuuri to take control of it. After all, Yuuri could take control of the room with a single word, as he just had. “He is right. If you desire for people to accept me, I have to prove my place to them on my own. Not through Yuuri. They need to see that I am capable of leading without needing to hide behind siren magic. Is that not what you want, your Majesty? For me to gain respect and acceptance as their ruler?”

Lilia could not respond, kept silent by Yuuri’s spell. Her grip on the sofa tightened for a moment before she started forward. Her approach was halted by another single word.

“Stop.”

She froze, voiceless and motionless, trapped within the influence of a siren’s command. Victor could feel the tingle of magic within him, the temptation to do exactly as Yuuri said. Yet within him, it was like a whisper that could be pushed aside instead of the compelling call that had once driven him to his knees.

“Is that what you wanted to experience?” Victor asked her, brushing his hand against Yuuri’s. “It isn’t unpleasant. I always enjoyed Yuuri’s commands but I suppose that might have been the influence of love. It’s terrifying, though, once you’ve been set free from it and you realize exactly what a siren could do to you with a simple request. If he had commanded everyone in that room to silence, they would have carried that terror and let it spread. Consider, your Majesty, how much worse it would be then.”

Yuuri released the command, after moving to stand at Victor’s side.

As if she had been physically bound, Lilia stumbled, gripping onto the sofa to keep herself from collapsing. Yakov rushed to her, but she slapped his hands away, her breathing shallow. “Why did you not obey?” she questioned.

Victor offered a smile. “The command wasn’t directed at me. And I remind you again, we are wed. I’ll always listen to my Yuuri, magic or not.”

With a scoff resembling disbelief, Lilia made her way around the sofa to take a seat, her movements unsteady. Yakov situated himself on an armchair beside her, growling out an order of “Sit down.”

Lilia waved him off, shaking her head. “Let them stand if they please. It is obvious that I am no longer the one with the highest stature in this room.”

Victor remained on his feet, defiant. However the ceremony had gone, there was no way to change the outcome now. All they could do was cast influence, to try to salvage the mess that had been strewn across the audience chamber. Lilia’s impulsive reaction would make Victor’s attempt to ease into the court more difficult. They would need a way to turn the incident into a positive, to make Yuuri’s refusal to act on command into something that was beneficial. Lilia had wanted Yuuri to dominate, to control everyone, but that would surely have been a concern to those who had chosen to come—if they had been granted a choice at all.

“Commodore, I realize that you do not approve of our dear Queen’s decision to bring me back but surely you’ll know of some fools who do not oppose.”

Yakov was quiet, taking time to consider the question before he nodded. “There are some. Those who served with you and still admire you. Then there are the more privileged amongst the nobility, who talk about how thrilling it might be. They think of it as entertainment.”

Victor knew the type well. The gossips. The families whose sons and daughters had never failed to extend him invitations to parties and galas, the worth of their estates keeping their concerns at a minimum and their boredom high. “Were any invited today?”

“Several.”

“What are you scheming at?” Lilia asked, her eyes sharp as she gathered herself together. Her breathing had steadied, her hand dropping from her chest. Victor noticed how intently Yuuri had trained his eyes on her, like a vulture.

“They’re the ones we need to get to. How scandalous it is, the siren that the prince brought did not listen to the Queen’s order,” Victor said, holding out his palm as he smirked, imitating the mannerisms of such nobility. “But don’t you see, my good friend, how splendid that is. The siren isn’t here to command us, because he knows we aren’t the enemy. He doesn’t want to control us. He’ll listen to the prince, but not the queen in a moment of panic, and, oh, that’s understandable, it really is. How exciting, how grand. Imagine the horror, if he had commanded a whole room! But he didn’t, so we have nothing to fear.”

Lilia laughed, short and less than amused. “Sweet Vitya, you really think that would work?”

“The boy’s plans have always had their merits,” Yakov muttered, turning toward her. “It would stave doubts. Those who like to talk and who like their positions won’t want to see seeds of rebellion brewing.”

“You’ll have people who can start the whispers of awe and support,” Victor stated. Those in the navy would be difficult to convince, but they would also follow the orders of the Queen and their commanders unless the opposition grew undeniable. The nobility who trusted Lilia and who would worry about the risks that came with building dissent, those needed to be their aim. “In the meantime, Yuuri and I will need to demonstrate that we are here for the good of the kingdom.”

Beside him, Yuuri chirped. Victor could have melted, despite the tension of their surroundings. Yuuri would surely charm any member of the court, if given the chance. A chirp would be all it took. Fraternizing with nobility was not Victor’s preferred pastime, but it could buy them time outside the palace walls and thus a chance to send word out to their ship. In addition, Victor did not want Yuuri trapped inside any longer.

“A ball,” Lilia said after a few minutes of consideration. “It would be customary, for your welcoming home. I hope you understand, however, that it would be dangerous. And that you would be dependant on your husband if a threat arose. The palace guards would be unable to flank your every step.”

“A ball would be a wonderful excuse to have Yuuri at my side the whole evening,” Victor answered. “And Yuuri loves dancing, don’t you, lovebird?”

Yuuri nodded, a soft churr rolling from deep inside his chest.

“Then it is settled.” Lilia rose to her feet, facing Victor and his partner. “He will need instruction.”

“I promise you that my ballroom skills are as good as ever,” Victor replied, slipping his arm around Yuuri’s waist. “Although, your Majesty, I do believe you owe Yuuri an apology for your harsh words.”

“Consider it to be the fact that both of you still have your heads,” Lilia said, already making to depart. Yakov kept step with her, casting a final glance toward Yuuri. “If he keeps you alive through your coronation, he’ll have my gratitude. And I shall beg his pardon. Yet, I will demand that he not issue me commands again.”

“I hope that it won’t be necessary,” Victor answered, his tone flippant. It was something they both wished to avoid. Yuuri’s power was best saved for when it would be truly needed. To secure their way out, in a manner that would ensure they would not be pursued. “Your Majesty.”

Although they were left alone, Victor knew it only seemed that way. There would be palace guards just outside the doors, and more stationed along the halls. Victor turned toward Yuuri. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, Yuuri responded with a light smile. “I now see why you preferred my family…”

Victor blinked, then laughed, placing a hand over his mouth to stifle it. He stepped back with one foot, bending into a bow at the waist and holding a hand out to Yuuri. “May I escort you to the ballroom, my siren husband?”

Yuuri accepted his hand. “I want those biscuits with the fruit jam first.”

* * *

The deck of the ship was in a scramble. Mila barked commands to let out the slack in the ropes as she turned them to cut off the route of the other ship. With sails filled, they took the waves at speed and approached fast. Mari had abandoned them, hurling across the distance to join the other siren in the assault against the merchant ship.

Guang Hong’s heart pounded in his ears as he was grabbed by the collar and dragged below deck, with orders shouted to get the cannons prepped. If a siren was attacking a ship, wouldn’t it be more of a danger to approach lest its anger be redirected at them? Even with Mari to speak out for them, they had already witnessed the peril of an unreceptive siren.

As the ships grew nearer, they ran the cannons in, ready to fire on command. The shadow of a body being tossed overboard passed across the porthole, punctuated by a weight splashing into the ocean. No scream nor sound of struggle followed. Guang Hong wondered if the crew had helped Yuuri sink ships in the same manner.

They were close, within firing range. The ship turned slowly, bringing them in line. Colored feathers flashed across the opening, white streaked with pink. Guang Hong had seen those patterns before.

“Don’t fire the cannons!” The voice was familiar as well, as it flooded through the hold and rendered all on the guns immobile. Flint ready to set off the igniting sparks was dropped. “They have a siren on board! Help us!”

The plea hit the center of Guang Hong’s chest like an explosion. Help, of course. That was their whole mission, their entire purpose of seeking out the sirens at sea. He had to help, somehow. If the other ship had captured a siren and another was asking for help, it meant they were using the tricks learned from Minami’s book. They would be prepped for a siren attack, with ears muted and silk nets on hand. Perhaps that meant they were less prepared for human intervention.

“Get up on deck,” Otabek snapped, his eyes glazed over with the influence of siren magic, “We’ll need to board.”

Feet slipping up the stairs, Guang Hong emerged back under the sky. The siren who had commanded them was perched atop their crow’s nest—the same siren who had come to them in the months prior, carrying word of how Victor and Yuuri had been taken by the navy. Her wings were spread behind her, and even from a distance, Guang Hong could see bent feathers and the color of blood on her robes.

Grappling hooks had been thrown, lodging into the railing of the merchant ship. Crewmen strained their muscles to pull them near enough to throw down planks, pirates rushing across with blades and guns in hand. Mari aided, flying between the masts, tearing guns out of terrified grips and knocking men off the ship.

Guang Hong could not yet hold his own in such a chaotic fight, but he could help. If there was a captive siren on the ship, it would not be on deck. It would be kept where its voice could not carry, bound and trapped. If they had a brig it would be in the hold, far below. Guang Hong kept low as he darted across the plank, watching his feet to make sure he did not slip. He took cover behind the backs of dueling pirates, descending into the hull of the merchant ship. The layout was different from the pirate ship, which was built for war and speed. A merchant ship was built to carry goods, sectioning off dry goods from the wet.

Keeping to the walls, Guang Hong ran past crates, grateful for the knowledge that merchant ships tended to carry fewer men. More crewmen meant less room for stock and less stock meant less funds earned. He found the stairs leading down from the lower deck, magic pulsing through his nerves. On Victor’s ship, the brig had been at the stern. Guang Hong found it with little difficulty and froze.

Within the confines of a steel-grated cell lay a siren, collapsed, long hair half-covering a bruised face. Wings of warm brown and muted greys resembling the pattern of horned owls stretched out over him, feathers ruffled with damage. Logic told Guang Hong to approach with care but the siren command drove him forward, calling out a warning. “Hey! Hey, are you okay? I’m going to help, okay? I’m gonna get you out!” The siren did not stir.

The cell was locked, with no keys in sight. Guang Hong wished he had seen how Victor had picked the locks on the forge door, or at least studied how to do it himself. He doubted books detailing such actions would be available in the standard shop. Around the hold was nothing he could use and he doubted the wood of the crates and barrels would stand against steel. He needed something heavy.

“Hold on!”

The merchant ship had a few guns on the lower deck; Guang Hong had seen them. If they had guns, they had ammunition for it and a powder store. He visualized the position of the cannons and bolted. The lower deck was no longer quiet as he approached the gun room, the merchant crew fighting off pirates attempting to overtake their ship. The cannons there had been in the process of being loaded, no doubt by a few spare men when they had noticed the pirate ship gaining on them. They had not had enough time, hindered by a lack of hands and inexperienced gunners.

Guang Hong ducked around two men locked in a sword fight just in time to see a gun drawn out and fired into the unfortunate merchant. Blood spattered across his cheek and he hastily wiped it off, staining his sleeve. Behind the guns he found the artillery store and the reserve of cannonballs, their size small enough for his palm. He grabbed one and ran.

The first strike of the cannonball against the steel lock rang through his arm, and he jumped out of the way when he dropped it, nearly crushing his toes. He adjusted his grip and his stance for the second strike. The third dented the steel of the lock, the fourth bent the metal around it. His hand was numb by the fifth, but the lock was warped enough for him to pry the door open. It scraped across the wooden floor.

Guang Hong threw down the cannonball, letting it roll away.

The siren had barely moved, at one point trying to push himself up onto his forearms before falling back down from lack of strength. There had been animals kept at the Ji Estate, horses and a chicken coop. Guang Hong had let his curiosity take him to the stables outside of his riding lessons, learning a bit from the keepers. The primary advice had always been not to spook them, especially when they were injured. “Hello, Mister Siren. I’m, uhhh, gonna try to help you up, okay? Please don’t eat me.”

Taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm his racing heart, Guang Hong dropped to his knees, bending all the way to the floor. He noticed a gag around the siren’s mouth and, perhaps against better judgment, removed it. Gingerly taking the siren’s arm, Guang Hong placed it over his shoulders, cursing his own small stature as he struggled to lift the siren onto his feet. With gritted teeth and determination, he managed, huffing. Minami had mentioned that sirens had hollow bones like birds, which made them light enough for flight. Guang Hong supposed he should be grateful, because he did not think he could carry the weight of a man. Obviously, he needed to practice hauling more gunpowder. “I’m going to try to get us out. We’ve got a ship, we’ve got sirens helping us. Mari and, uhhhh, Yuu… Yuuko. Yeah, that was her name. If you can walk a bit, try.”

With a siren hanging off his shoulders, navigating across the hold was far more difficult. Crates were stacked high, the gaps between them narrow. He moved with care, keeping his hold on the injured siren firm until he reached the stairs to the lower deck. Now there was a challenge.

“Really gonna need your help now, if it’s at all possible,” he muttered to the siren who had been weakly dragging his feet. Not that Guang Hong expected anything beyond that. He was so used to seeing sirens at full power, confident and domineering, like Mari and her brother. To find one so weak was distressing. “Just hang on.”

The climb was slow. Guang Hong pulled them up step by step, taking care of both his balance and his rescue. All the scenes of heroism in his books had never mentioned how slow and precarious the process was. If Guang Hong had been a bit bigger, maybe then he could sweep the siren into his arms and carry him out with the wind blowing through his hair when he arrived on the main deck. Then again, if the fighting had not ceased, it would be foolish to take a pause just to make a visual statement.

Gritting his teeth, Guang Hong heaved the siren with him up the final step. “Okay, halfway there. Don’t give up, Ji. You’re a great pirate and you’re gonna get this siren out. Come on. Deep breath and heave on.” He took that deep breath, though the heave on was delayed by the sight of a pistol barrel pointed in his direction.

A merchant, clothing torn and hair matted with blood, placed a trembling finger on the trigger. “Drop the siren!”

Guang Hong’s mind went blank. He had his knife strapped to his belt, but there was no way he could get to it and defend himself while keeping hold of the siren. What would Silverlock do, in this situation? Something clever. Distract and disarm. Pepper in a witty line. “You haven’t said please?” he tried, bouncing to keep the siren slumping against him on his feet.

The merchant pulled back the cock of the gun. Guang Hong squeezed his eyes shut and yelled, charging in blindly. The shot never fired and he hit the wood of stacked crates instead, hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He buckled, bracing his knees to keep himself and the siren upright.

“That was stupid.”

Guang Hong opened his eyes to Yuri standing over the merchant’s body, the blade in his hand dripping red. It was wiped and sheathed, his fellow powder monkey scowling at him. “Thanks?”

“Are there any others?”

“No,” Guang Hong shook his head. “I only saw him.”

“Give me his other arm.”

Together, they got the siren onto the main deck. The merchant crew had been fought back and, as soon as Yuri shouted out, Mari and Yuuko came swooping down to take the male siren off their hands. Guang Hong watched them carry him off, flying him to the pirate ship where they shielded him with their wings. Relief washed through him, taking the compulsion of the magic with it. It left his chest feeling hollow.

The moment of relaxation barely lasted, as Guang Hong found himself being dragged off by Emil, his assistance again being demanded. Guang Hong hurried on the doctor’s heels, Mari and Yuuko having taken shelter in the captain’s cabin. Yuuko almost snapped them away, stopped by Mari informing her that Emil was a doctor as well. She and Emil surveyed the damage to the siren together, Mari helping to carefully stretch out his wings in search of any potential breaks.

Guang Hong hung back, handing over supplies from Emil’s medicine chest and answering the questions fired at him. Locked in the brig. Gagged but not bound. No, the siren had not spoken. No, he had not seen much blood. No, there had been no other feathers. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

As Yuuko raided Emil’s medicine chest, shoving aside some powders and collecting others in her arms, Mari leaned down to whisper unknown words to the nameless siren. Not long after, his wings retracted, feathers melting into brown and grey markings. He was bruised but not bleeding, with green and yellow marks that mimicked ropes disrupting the patterns at his wrists and ankles.

Minami came in briefly, bringing water and broth Chris had made from the bones of fish. Emil shuffled them out after Yuuko managed to make the siren drink a mouthful of each, muttering that he would not need to see humans near him when he regained consciousness.

The merchants who remained alive were interrogated by Mila but refused to speak. That changed when Mari emerged and commanded the truth from them, having ripped the muting wax from their ears. The details of their confessions spread amongst the pirate crew quickly. They were a merchant ship, with an extra request on their manifest for delivery to the kingdom’s capital: a siren, in exchange for a more than lofty fee. Even Guang Hong balked at the amount on offer.

As evening fell, Yuuko came out of the cabin, giving her thanks and informing them that the other siren had briefly woken. He had been prisoner on the ship for three weeks, caught while on a desperate search for his missing mate.

Witnessing the rage of a single siren was a humbling experience. Seeing two side by side, ripping out the throats and hearts of guilty merchants, was petrifying. Guang Hong fled below deck, gasping for a calming breath. Overhead were loud, arguing voices and shortly after, the creaking scream of splitting wood. The merchant ship had been sunk after a thorough search, with not a single soul belonging to it left alive.

At the very least, the sirens and the pirates were safe. For the moment.

Their fears, however, had been confirmed. Ships were hunting sirens and succeeding.


	7. A Timed Minuet

“We begin with honors,” Victor explained, crossing an arm low across his abdomen and bowing deeply to his partner. “Normally, the man will bow and the woman will curtsy while dipping her head. In our case, however, we would both bow.” He repeated the gesture for Yuuri, who watched him closely and then mimicked. Victor smiled. “Oh, no protest there?”

“I don’t mind bowing to _you_ ,” Yuuri replied, his tone still irritated from earlier. It caused the backs of Victor’s ears to prickle, but the musicians in the corner of the ballroom visibly stiffened. Despite not being near enough to make out Yuuri’s words, the magic influence of his emotions would have carried. 

Victor did not blame Yuuri for his building frustration. They had tried to go out to the courtyard the previous evening but had been stopped the moment Yuuri had spread his wings under the waxing moon. Their morning breakfast with Lilia had not gone well either. At the least, the kitchen seemed to have finally grasped Yuuri’s preferred diet, serving him fresh uncooked fish and a side plate of ripe in-season fruit. Lilia had eaten very little herself, spending the time stressing the importance of the ball. And she was right to stress it. 

In accordance with Victor’s suggestion, they had managed to tilt a few of the rumors coming from the pardoning ceremony in their favor. Lilia had used trusted guards and attendants, no doubt stacking their salaries to ensure their “gossip” reached the right ears. They were in the service of the palace after all, spending their days in the presence of the siren. It was true, they would say. The siren did not take orders from the Queen, and listened only to the prince. The tactic was a risky one, as tongues—even paid ones—often spilled too much. However, many of the invitations Lilia had sent out for the ball had been returned with gratitude and acceptance. 

“We bow first to the assembly watching, then to each other,” Victor said, chuckling when Yuuri scowled at the idea of bowing to onlookers. Yuuri had been hesitant when he heard that he and Victor would be expected to open the dancing together, as everyone else in attendance looked on. He claimed that dancing was meant to be intimate, for mates alone, only for Victor to remind him exactly how many times Yuuri had danced in front of the crew and how he had interrupted a raid in order to drag Victor into a dance at the midsummer festival. Yuuri had offered no protest beyond that. “And once that is done, we’ll turn to stand side by side and I will take your hand.”

Yuuri followed Victor’s steps and the flow of his movements, allowing his hand to float into Victor’s. The touch was light, as they were meant to separate shortly after. Victor walked them through the steps, starting them off on their inside legs and moving forward in a count of four. They dipped slightly then, keeping pace with the would-be music. Another four steps and Victor slipped his hand out from under Yuuri’s. 

The dance was far from complex; the steps repeated as they danced around one another in the alternating pattern of half a figure eight before rejoining at the center of the dance floor. “Think you can manage that?” Victor asked, receiving a nod in response. 

The musicians began to play on Victor’s signal, a modest minuet carried by violins. Although the dance itself was simple, it was customary. Their performance was meant to not only start the ball, but also ease into interactions with the guests following formal introductions. While it was common for the first couple to switch dance partners after the first minuet, Victor doubted Yuuri would wish to leave his side. If at any point, the crowded nature of the ball grew too overwhelming for Yuuri, Victor needed to be able to distract him or else escape to the connecting gardens. Nobility had an image of manners and decorum, but he knew anyone brave enough to attend a ball with a siren would not restrain their curiosity.

Dance came naturally to Yuuri, his timing and his steps flawless. They practiced the first section, though Victor quickly noticed the smile quirking Yuuri’s lips. “What?”

“It’s a bit…” Yuuri did not pause his movements, carrying on while clearly eager to return to the center line each time, so that he could take back Victor’s hand, “...foolish?”

“Says the siren who shook his tail in my face so forcefully that he rocked my entire ship,” Victor countered, lacing their fingers together. “Yes, the start is simplistic but the purpose is to let those watching admire you. Your form, your clothing, your rhythm. Once they’ve had the chance, well… then, you’re allowed to improvise.” The change of positions, the half-loop patterns, the counts of four—those were all standard. However, the popularity of the dance as a starter was attributed to sections in between the required steps, where skilled dancers were encouraged to deviate from the norm. 

“For instance, we could turn into each other.” Victor kept contact with Yuuri, though only just. Their fingertips barely remained touching as Victor turned them to the time of the music, spinning them slowly. Yuuri had already been given ball clothing to try, and as handsome as Yuuri might potentially look if he were comfortable with them, it was obvious that the high-cut, tight trousers and fitted waistcoat would be awkward on him. Yuuri had agreed to cope with the clothing and the shoes for the evening of the ball, but Victor had an idea he hoped would satisfy everyone. “Or we can turn away and come spinning back to each other. You’re welcome to move however you want to the music. I will follow your lead.”

Yuuri imitated shaking his tail feathers. 

Victor laughed. He, too, would have preferred to witness Yuuri’s mating dance again. A minuet, however, was far from awful. Slow and steady, yet with the constant pull of returning to stand beside one’s dance partner. “As long as you do it in time with the music, I think it may be permitted.” 

As they continued to practice, Victor called in attendants to stand around them and observe, making them play the part of the ball guests. Gradually, the amount of people increased until they were surrounded by eager gazes, whispers from the back rows melding into the melody of the music. 

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed and his posture stiffened, but he continued to dance with Victor. The ball itself would be far more crowded and there would surely be those who would want to take every chance to interact with Yuuri. He needed to be ready for roaming hands and probing questions, ready to sate the enthusiastic nature of those who had never experienced real danger. 

Lilia intended for the ball to be a showcase, not of Victor but of Yuuri. A demonstration that he was more or less “tame.” Not a wild creature of death, but a powerful beauty that was an undeniable asset to the kingdom. In addition to that, Victor was meant to charm and woo anyone who still bore any doubts about his return. He had been adored before and Lilia wanted him to remind those of the court how much they had once loved and praised him. 

Victor was not entirely happy about either of those objectives; however, it was true that they needed to convince others of influence that Yuuri was not a threat. If there were men on the seas hunting sirens, they would be bringing sirens back into the hands of those who could pay for such ventures. The more people around them who saw Yuuri and came to understand exactly what sirens were, the fewer who might be tempted by the delusion of keeping one as a pet. 

They took a break once Yuuri grew comfortable enough with the steps to begin improvising, leading Victor in half-moon patterns and using his hands to weave more movements in time with the rhythm. Victor dismissed the attendants and let the musicians rest their arms, closing the distance between him and Yuuri. “It’ll be enjoyable, if it all goes well,” he promised, lifting a hand to caress Yuuri’s cheek. “Dancing and music, and undoubtedly some good liquor. All things that you love.” Victor would need to make sure Yuuri did not have too much of the liquor, as a drunken siren might be too much for anyone to handle. 

Yuuri laughed. “Your dance puts so much space between the partners.”

“This type of dance is for show. For presentation. And don’t you dance from a distance when you’re courting a mate?” 

“Only the initial dance,” Yuuri replied, “If they accept, the second dance is a lot more intimate.”

“And isn’t that one followed by a romp in a nest?” Victor teased. “No matter what your sister says, humans don’t bed everyone they dance with.”

Yuuri scowled and stuck out his tongue, making Victor’s chuckle grow deeper. Maybe when the spring came again, they could enjoy a proper mating season together. Albeit, that would mean escaping from the palace first and even Victor knew that the coming spring would be far too optimistic a goal. 

Yuuri wandered toward the center of the ballroom, where the windows gave the best views out into the garden. He did the same in the mornings, gazing out to catch glimpses of the sky after they awoke, his eyes shifting to every window they passed when walking down halls. It was cruel, keeping him locked inside.

“It’s like when you were trapped on the ship.”

“I didn’t mind that so much,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “You let me do as I pleased, you let me out. I never felt trapped. And I somehow knew that I could trust you. I felt safe.” 

Lilia could not keep Yuuri inside the palace walls forever. A prisoner did not make for a willing accomplice. “If the ball goes well, it’ll be on to the next step—showing you off to the public. There will be a festival coming up, celebrating the turn of the year. I’m sure we’ll be asked to attend.” 

“Anything sooner?” The smile on Yuuri’s lips was weak and far from hopeful. The last fiber of Victor’s resolve snapped. 

“Come on.” Grabbing Yuuri’s hand, Victor dragged him from the ballroom, ignoring the protests of the attendants watching the doors. The entrance to the gardens was just around the corner and Victor pushed the glass doors open, leading Yuuri out into the sun. 

“Aren’t you going to get us in trouble?” Yuuri’s fingers tightened around Victor’s.

“What are they going to do?” Victor asked, hurrying them down the steps and toward the lush grasses. “Take us back inside? Again? You can just tell them no.”

That smile bloomed, a churr rumbling low in Yuuri’s throat. He kicked off his shoes, jumping barefoot onto the grass and twirling. Unfurling his wings would be pushing their luck, but Victor was pleased to see feathers spring from the markings on Yuuri’s arms and legs, fluffed up as if they were stretching. The small feathers by his ears sprang up as well, and Victor wasted no time in kissing them. 

Victor discarded his shoes as well, joining Yuuri in solidarity. With knowing looks exchanged between them, they retook their positions, returning to their dance rehearsal alongside rows of deeply purple violas. Yuuri was quickly become an expert in the steps, leading Victor as they hummed the music together. 

They did not go on for long, finishing only a single dance, before the dear commodore was storming into the gardens, flanked by four guards. “Vitya!”

“He’s not flying! No wings, see?” Victor called back, not pausing even though Yuuri hesitated. He caught Yuuri’s eyes and they continued, running through the steps of the minuet. One, two, three, four, dip, and one, two, three, four. Yuuri, who was biting back a grin, hummed the notes of the music a little louder. “There’s no one around. We merely wanted to get some fresh air as we practiced. Is that so wrong, commodore?”

A response was not immediate. Yakov’s men stood at attention as he glared, observing while Victor and Yuuri carried on with their dance. They did not cease, not giving him the benefit of seeing them halt, transitioning one dance into the next with varied sections in the middle each time. 

Yakov did not approach them further, instead throwing up an arm in exasperation. “At least do it properly,” he growled, then barked at his guards to return to the palace—though he did give the order that Victor and his siren were to be kept under close watch. 

A few minutes later, the musicians were hustled out into the gardens, appearing a bit flummoxed by their change in venue. They quickly arranged themselves on the gravel of the nearby path and, as they began to play, Victor smiled, victorious. 

The rest of the week passed languidly. Victor considered whether it might be possible for him to sneak out of the palace in order to get word sent out to Mila, though that plan was flawed from all angles. He had no one within the palace he could trust, and no one outside of it either. A bribe would only go so far, and a failed one would not be worth the risk. In addition, even if he sent word to the ports their ship frequented, he had no idea where Mila was now nor how long it would be before she received his message. What he needed was not a trustworthy packet ship, but a trustworthy siren who could fly his message straight to her. Yuuri, regrettably, was even more restricted than Victor. 

The evening of the ball approached, marked by the arrival of a few smaller ships in the harbor and by numerous carriages at the gates of the palace. Victor and Yuuri had been warned, repeatedly, to be on their best behavior. They were, after all, to be surrounded by nobility who would be attending to welcome them. Victor had promised they would try. 

“Victor…” Yuuri’s voice called to him softly. They were meant to be getting dressed, and Victor’s ball clothing had been delivered by an attendant. Yuuri’s, however, were missing. “Where are my clothes?”

“You and I both know that you would hate being kept in trousers this tight all evening,” Victor chuckled. They were high-waisted and form-fitting, the fabric new and still a bit stiff. A formal ball outfit made for the husband of the prince would be stunning on Yuuri, but Yuuri would be tortured within it. So Victor had found an alternative. He would take advantage of any and every opportunity he had to bring Yuuri joy, and a ball was the perfect chance. “I had something better made for you.”

Even if he had been able to get Yuuri’s robes back, they would not have been deemed appropriate for the occasion. Victor had seen enough siren robes now to have a decent idea of their designs. As healers, Hiroko and Toshiya had worn some which were more practical. Mari’s had seemed tailored for a traveler, with layers that she could easily adjust. Yuuri, who had spent his years luring in ships and stripping sailors of their treasure, had worn robes meant to attract a mate. Victor had gone to one of the royal seamstresses, passing on his notes and thoughts in order to request a ball outfit for Yuuri. It had been delivered to him earlier in the day. 

“Now, I’ll be seeing it for the first time as well and if you don’t like it, we can always revert to the original plan,” Victor said, holding out a ribbon-wrapped box for Yuuri to take. 

Yuuri accepted the box, sitting down on the bed and placing it in his lap. “This feels familiar,” he said as he pulled the ribbon loose and opened his gift. Inside were the clothes Victor had designed for him, based off a combination of siren robes and formal wear favored by regions further east. 

Victor’s outfit for the evening consisted of muted tones, as Lilia had determined that anything too bold or flashy would contradict the respectable image she wanted to mold for them. Deep and regal purple was toned down, used as a decorative accent amongst the main body of ivory. Despite the difference in style and colors, Yuuri’s outfit was meant to compliment Victor’s. 

Instead of tightly fitted garments, Yuuri lifted out loose, pleated trousers made of the lightest silk. He blinked as he held them out, flipping them over. “A skirt?”

“No,” Victor said, motioning for Yuuri to stand. “I thought you would be more comfortable in a more relaxed fit. Here, let me show you.”

Yuuri stripped off his clothing and stepped into the trousers. They did not hug his skin, instead flaring toward the bottom to allow Yuuri to move freely and let his feathers out without restriction. Victor helped Yuuri slip into the shirt, tucking it into the trousers and securing both in place with ribbons around Yuuri’s waist. There were no gems stitched into the fabric, but the hems were stitched with silver thread that gave a subtle sparkle in the light. Having Yuuri turn around, Victor draped the final piece over Yuuri’s shoulders: a pressed long jacket with drooping sleeves that would carry movements well when Yuuri danced. A thick belt with blue waves stitched into it cinched the pieces together. Overall, the clothing was more inspired by siren robes while still containing the elements of a “proper” ball outfit. 

“What do you think?” Victor asked when he finished helping Yuuri dress, taking a step back to admire his husband. 

Yuuri turned, twisting at the waist to look down at himself. He held out his arms, his markings rapidly transforming into feathers before melting back into skin. While the accents of Victor’s clothing were of purple, Yuuri’s were of blue. The silver decorations paired together, mirror images of one another’s. Smiling, Yuuri gave a twirl and chirped his approval. “I like it.”

“Good,” Victor said, shifting to stand behind Yuuri. More silver threads coursed along the lines of Yuuri’s sleeves and down his spine, forming the designs of feathers. He ran his hands over Yuuri’s back, along either side where both the jacket and the shirt had long slits cut. “And these here are for your wings… In case you need to fly but don’t want to ruin your pretty new clothes.”

“You know me so well,” Yuuri teased, craning back to steal a kiss. “Thank you. For always taking such good care of me.”

“As if I would be able to survive even a minute inside these walls without you here to support me,” Victor replied, arranging Yuuri’s hair so that the markings at his ears would be in view. “Let’s go dance? And show the court what a gorgeous siren you are?” 

“I promise not to eat anyone,” Yuuri said, a smile spreading wide across his face. “Unless they provoke me.”

“Then it would be well deserved.”

They checked each other’s ball outfits, Yuuri smoothing his hands down the front of Victor’s vest before fluffing the frills at his neck. They departed together, hand in hand, into the guidance of the attendants waiting outside their door.

The timing of their arrival was meant to be after that of the guests. They were to be introduced after all were in attendance, to make the most significant impression. They were to bow, to dance, and then turn their attention to greeting everyone who had come. In addition to their dance rehearsals, Victor had gone over customs and manners with Yuuri, though he was rather envious that Yuuri did not need to memorize all the lines and titles Victor once had to. Yuuri would keep his voice to himself, keeping his influence at bay. It would work to reassure those who might be nervous of a siren’s power and entice those who wished to see it in action, keeping them committed through curiosity. 

“Ready?” Victor asked when they stopped before the ballroom doors, the music and chatter audible from within. He had Yuuri’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. 

“As I will ever be.”

The ballroom doors were opened by attendants, and they entered as the announcement of their arrival was made, drawing attention immediately. The grand chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the ballroom were all lit, as were the crystal lamps on the walls, casting brightness across the length of the hall. The music and conversation grew quiet as men in formal suits and women in gowns turned to gaze at the entrance of the prince and his siren. 

Yuuri held his head high, his posture straight and shoulders even. Victor adored his pride, because even if Yuuri’s hand was slightly unsteady in his own, he knew that Yuuri was there to command the room in spite of his silence. They were together, they were determined, and they were going to take advantage of the evening ahead of them. 

Yuuri kept his gaze trained ahead of him as they walked to the center of the ballroom, emulating Victor’s advice. Keep focused, concentrate on the dance and on his partner, so that the intimidating amount of people in the room did not become a distraction. They took their starting positions, bowing first to the onlookers and then to each other. And then the music began. 

Over their week of practices, they had gotten adventurous, straying further and further from the simplistic steps of a standard minuet. As enjoyable as it had been to lift Yuuri into the air and spin him in his arms, Victor did not think they needed to risk scandalizing a few of the more conservative nobles. It was bad enough that the heir-turned-pirate had taken a siren for a husband. 

They floated on the musical notes, reciting the steps to the rhythmic count. Yuuri’s eyes were locked on Victor throughout, his nerves hidden behind a soft smile. They twirled around each other, taking hold of each other’s hands and briefly parting, movements synced perfectly. It was Yuuri who broke the pattern, stepping in and beckoning Victor closer than was expected for a minuet, keeping them close as they danced figure eights across every inch of available space. 

The ballroom was filled with richly dyed gowns, men sporting the latest fashions, nobility from all across the kingdom, and yet Victor only saw Yuuri. Perhaps, if others could see Yuuri in the same light, remaining at the palace would not be such a distasteful fate. They could keep sirens safe, avoid the dangers of the open seas, and implement new regulations within the navy so that piracy would no longer be such an attractive alternative to those worn down through service. The issue was that humans were greedy, rebellious, and selfish. The truth of it was, Victor was no different. He wanted the best for himself, for his crew, for Yuuri—all else be damned. He did, however, want to achieve his goals with the least amount of collateral damage. At least, this time. 

As they danced, Victor saw Yuuri’s posture relax, his smile turning more genuine. In and out, step by step, loop by loop. At the conclusion of their performance, Victor tugged Yuuri close. He took both of Yuuri’s hands and dipped low, kissing his partner’s knuckles as the final notes of music faded away. Yuuri blushed, chirping quietly and happily. Victor kept hold of Yuuri as they bowed in gratitude to their audience, the applause that followed steady and polite. 

With the first of the formalities finished, the ballroom floor would be opened to all who wished to dance and mingle, and the musicians restarting with an even livier tune. As for Victor and Yuuri, they would be spending their time engaging with their guests, forming bonds in the hopes that they might yield a valuable ally. 

They were barely off the dance floor before being approached. A duke and his wife, from the north, both shuffled forward without a hint of hesitation. Victor’s hands were shaken, while Yuuri received a bow and a curtsy. They spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries without significance, a custom that Victor was used to. To take too much time on the initial interaction was considered rude, with manners dictating that introductions and words of welcome gave way to timely pardons so that the next couple could do the same. After all the guests had made their rounds would come the opportunity for a second and deeper conversation. 

It was on the fourth couple that Victor noticed something odd, as he reached out to accept the hands of the countess who had extended hers. He had thought that they were gloved, a pure white, but when he touched her there was no fabric on her hands. Yuuri likewise stared, his expression turning into a gentle frown. When she departed, Yuuri took Victor’s hands to study them. Streaks of white were smeared across Victor’s skin. They had no time to do anything other than trade looks, curiosity intensifying moments later as the next pair they greeted also bore painted hands. 

The paint was not present on every individual, though it was far more common on the women than the men. Unlike the odd detail of painted skin, the patterns of conversation did not deviate by much. A salutation, followed by the exchange of names and the regions they represented, then a statement expressing delight at Victor’s presence in the capital or else nothing at all. Victor did notice that the painted hands all matched the gowns the women wore, coordinated in color. 

The answer to their question came toward the conclusion of their obligatory greetings, when they were approached by a young woman who wore not a gown but the uniform of a cavalry officer, her hair brushed tightly back and left undecorated. She bowed rather than curtsied, directing her attention first to Victor, then to Yuuri, then back to Victor. “You may not remember, your highness, as it was quite a long time ago, but we were in the royal academy together.”

Victor did not think back to those days often. He raided his memory and landed on a girl with brunette pigtails who sat beside him during book courses. Yes, he remembered. Her family had been one of many who would consistently send him invitations for parties, gatherings, and the like. “Yang,” he recalled, tipping his head forward. “It has been a while. You look well.”

“As do you. Surprisingly so,” she stated, blue eyes shifting toward Yuuri. “And this is your…”

“Husband,” Victor answered, having stressed the same to all who had come before her. 

“I’d heard the rumor, though I wasn’t sure if it was true,” she said, bowing her head to Yuuri once more. “As unexpected as your return is, I am glad to have you back in the capital. I think your presence here will be a great benefit to a lot of people.” 

“Yourself included?”

“Indeed.” Without elaborating, she bowed at the waist and excused herself, turning to leave. 

Victor stopped her, though only for a moment. “Can you tell us one thing?” he asked, holding out the palm of his right hand where his skin was tinted with the transference of multi-colored paint. 

“Oh,” she let out a curt laugh. “Ask them to lift their sleeves. You’ll see. But be careful, your highness. There are plenty here who wish to take advantage of this newfound proximity. Yours, and your husband’s.” She departed, disappearing into the crowds of other attendees. 

Frowning, Victor glanced back to hear a chirp of concern from Yuuri. He shrugged off his unease, returning to the task at hand. However, when the next couple with painted hands stopped before them, Victor politely asked if they would show off the details. He should have guessed what it turned out to be. 

Under their sleeves, the paint extended past their wrists, where the solid colors gave way to the shapes of feathers. As Victor had once painted himself to look like a siren for Yuuri, the nobleman and woman in front of them had done the same. The paint was dry and matte, though flecks came off from where material rubbed against their skin. Yuuri reached forward, touching his fingertips to the simulated markings. 

“Oh, we hope it’s all right,” the woman said, holding out her arms in invitation for Yuuri to continue examining them. “It’s been all the rage for some time now. There was even a brief month or so when we were all gluing feathers to ourselves, but it was so uncomfortable and the clean-up was atrocious! Not just feathers, though, I’ll have you know. Flowers and other lovely things too. Tonight, of course, everyone’s done it in your honor.”

“Siren markings are in fashion?” Victor asked, glancing around the ballroom and taking closer note of how many had painted hands. Less than half, but only just. 

“Aren’t they gorgeous?” the noblewoman beamed, turning her hands over to show off the patterns to Yuuri. “Yours, though, your… sirenness, yours are real, aren’t they? Natural! May I see them?”

Blinking and wordless, Yuuri pulled up his left sleeve. 

The woman gasped, delighted, leaning forward to look closer. She did not try to touch, backing off as soon as she was satisfied. “Wonderful! But look, dear, I told you that they’re meant to go higher up. And he has more by his ears, how splendid. I hadn’t noticed that before!”

Victor bit back his comments, unsure of what Yuuri would think of such a habit. How much of the sketchbook had Jean Jacques shared before his death? Or did he have copies made and sold, keeping the original for himself? A fool, really, in more ways than one. Victor would savor the memory of how Yuuri had disposed of him. 

A gentle touch drew his attention and Victor cast his gaze down to where Yuuri was tracing a question into the back of his palm. 

“When did this start?” Victor asked for him, knowing exactly why Yuuri wanted to know.

“Midsummer?” she answered, looking to her husband. “Wasn’t it, dear?”

“I believe we first saw it at Lady Cornelia’s estate, did we not?”

“Oh, yes. With that darling bird that we saw there, that’s right—yes, yes it was.” She cleared her throat, excusing her mistake. “That would have been right at the start of June, pardon me. The popularity did peak in autumn. You wouldn’t have seen a single lady who was proper out without them! It’s such a hassle, though, so many of us have changed to painting only for special occasions.”

“Fascinating,” Victor remarked, and gave his thanks for the information. 

They both paid more attention to the hands of the few people they had yet to greet. A number of them showed off their painted markings too, having seen how Victor and Yuuri had carefully admired them. Yuuri was asked to show his again, earning stuttered compliments. When they had finally finished their rounds, Victor tugged Yuuri to the center of the ballroom floor and pulled him close, joining other dancing pairs. There they could speak softly to each other, uninterrupted. 

“Victor…”

“I know.” If it was true, if the fashion statement of painting oneself to look like a siren had really begun before the heart of the summer, the implications were far more worrisome. “People did see you, lovebird. In ports, on the few ships we let go. We were reckless at the beginning.”

Yuuri nodded, resting his cheek on Victor’s shoulder as they swayed to the music. Yakov had come chasing them due to the rumors of a siren on Victor’s ship, and whispers had swirled behind their backs in markets whenever Yuuri was at Victor’s side. Minami’s sketchbook would have provided solid details, but the stories would have already traveled across the seas long before that. 

“We’ll find out, lovebird. We have a name to go on now.” 

Victor stayed with Yuuri on the dance floor, sweeping him across it whilst ignoring some of the finer points of etiquette in regards to not taking up too much space and inconveniencing others. He danced with Yuuri, not as freely as they did on the deck of their ship, but enough to push a smile onto Yuuri’s lips. 

They were each asked for dances with other partners, noblewomen flocking to them for a chance to spend a song with both the prince and the siren. Yuuri hesitated, but ultimately accepted after Victor promised to stay close. Victor did keep his attention more on Yuuri than on his various dance partners, swooping in to rescue him when Yuuri grew weary. They took a break, receiving glasses filled with fine wine to quench the thirst in their throats. Yuuri drank two more in rapid succession, prompting Victor to remove the fourth glass from his hand. “As much as I love you drunk, perhaps we should hold off on that until later in the evening.”

Yuuri blushed and nodded, soon to be swept away from Victor by another request to dance. The alcohol had helped loosen his apprehensions and, after another glass of wine, a short while later, Yuuri was delighting a small group of guests by showing off how feathers sprouted from his markings. 

Keeping Yuuri in his line of sight, Victor made his way to the end of the hall where Lilia sat, observing the goings-on of the ball. “Your Majesty. You looked bored. May I interest you in a dance?”

“How kind,” Lilia drawled, shifting her gaze to him. She had been focused straight ahead, where Yuuri was silently interacting with guests. “I am afraid that my days of dancing with young men are behind me. But I dare say I’m impressed with your husband. In a setting like this, I thought he would be more wild.” 

The good will with which Victor had come over suddenly fled, replaced by a scowl. “He’s not an animal.”

“I did not mean to imply that, my dear Vitya. You must recall that I saw for myself what he did to that city, when he went to save you from imprisonment. I know he isn’t all sweet smiles and chirps of love, like he is with you. I’ve had navy ships go missing when they were meant to be following you, and I have no doubt that he had something to do with that. He isn’t an animal, he isn’t tame, but he also isn’t human.” 

“That bothers you.”

“No,” Lilia dismissed. “I merely worry for your safety.”

“I thought you wanted him to be my bodyguard.”

“I do. But a mother is allowed to worry,” she stated, her eyes directed toward Yuuri once more. “Are you happy?”

“With him?” Victor asked. “More so than I would ever be able to put into words.”

“Good. Then I am content.”

“Let him fly, then.”

Lilia smiled. “In due time. You must have patience, Vitya. As must he. A siren flying over the palace, do you want to terrify the entire capital?”

Although he did not want to admit it, she was right. First they needed to win over the court, the nobility, and then move on to the rest of the kingdom. Even if Victor wanted to move on sooner rather than later, a process like that could only be rushed so much. “May we at least have permission to go outside without being harrassed by our favorite commodore?”

Laughing, Lilia nodded. “I have told him to give you space, permitted that you don’t push the boundaries too far.”

Victor did have a way of doing that. With a less-than-satisfied bow, he left Lilia’s side and returned to Yuuri’s. He stole Yuuri away from a gaggle of chattering women, chuckling at the visible relief on Yuuri’s face. 

“Can I order them to be quieter?” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear.

“I think that might be considered rude,” Victor said with a smile. He did fetch another glass of wine for Yuuri, half-filled, giving him a moment to relax. The evening carried on, with Victor expertly fielding the more adventurous conversations from those who dared to inquire about piracy and distracting others who began to pry too deeply about Yuuri. 

When the night grew black, oil lamps were carried into the gardens and an announcement was made to beckon guests outside. A raised platform had been arranged behind the main fountains, atop which men in military uniforms had arranged large metal canisters. Yuuri started toward it, but Victor reached out to hold him back. “Not too close, lovebird. Best to keep your distance for this.”

Yuuri kept close, placing a hand on Victor’s arm. They waited near the steps leading from the palace, the rest of the guests gathering along the paths of the garden. The night was cold, stars covered by darkened clouds. Yuuri watched with modest interest as the military men conducted unnamed preparations. He leaned against Victor in surprise when they lit fuses. 

The fuses burned down slowly, the light sparked by them disappearing briefly when it reached the ends of their trails. A moment later, light erupted in geysers from the canisters, bursting into glitter high in the air. Yuuri gasped softly, tightening his grip on Victor’s arms as golden sparks dazzled the night sky. As the first geyser died down, more were lit. A row of smaller ones illuminated the garden, shining brightly enough for all the sleeping flowers surrounding the fountains to be visible. 

Reflections of the sparkling lights burned in Yuuri’s eyes, his smile just as brilliant. “Golden stars…”

“Not for collecting,” Victor teased, slipping an arm around Yuuri’s waist. He had seen a firework display once before, in celebration of a newly formed alliance with a region neighboring the kingdom. “They’re made with a slow-burning gunpowder. Different from the type for guns and cannons.”

“It’s beautiful,” Yuuri murmured, not daring to look away. 

The display lasted only for a few minutes, its conclusion marked by applause and loud cheers from a few of the drunker guests. The oil lamps placed in the garden remained there, allowing for people to mill around and admire the greenery as it glowed in the night. Others returned to the inside of the palace, eager for another round of drinks and to sample from the trays of sweets attendants had carried in. 

Victor and Yuuri made their way back, taking their time in following the crowd into the ballroom. The mood had settled, the formality at the start of the evening melting into casual enjoyment. The musicians took requests for music, allowing well-liquored men to show off for laughing women. Victor fed Yuuri a slice of sponge cake topped with fruit, smiling when Yuuri hummed in contentment.

It was late into the night when came a shout and several gasps, guests parting to make way for a running woman. Victor steeled himself, stepping forward to shield Yuuri even as his mate attempted to do the same for him. She grasped no weapons in her hands, her dark hair a touch disheveled, her gown of noble quality and design, although not one meant for a ball. 

“Where is he?” she cried, grasping at Victor’s chest and collapsing at his feet when he stepped out of her reach. “Please! How is it that you’re here but he still isn’t home?! Your highness, please, I beg you! My son, you have my son. Bring him back!” 

Gathered guests stared at the sobbing noblewoman, who fumbled with the skirts of her gown and brought forth a crumpled parchment from within her inner pockets. “Look at him, your highness! Your crew stole him from our home. I beg you, bring him back. He’s just a child! Please, show us mercy. We’ll pay, we’ll do anything you please. We just want him home!”

Victor had no chance to reach for her as guards and attendants rushed forward, pushing away the other guests and helping the woman onto her feet. She did not struggle against them; her only act of resistance was forcing the parchment into Victor’s hands. “Please, your highness, let them bring him home.”

As she was escorted away, leaving the ballroom stunned and confused, Victor unfolded the parchment he had been given. As soon as he saw what was on it, he held it out for Yuuri to see as well. The paint was worn, colors faded by the distance of a long journey, but the subject depicted was unmistakable. On the parchment was a miniature portrait of Guang Hong Ji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter seven art](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/post/188212963759/crimson-chains-a-dance-w-we-begin-with)


	8. Birds of a Feather

“So, ummm… how’s he doing?”

The ship had been sailing with an uneasy atmosphere on board, the crew now hosting three sirens on their decks. Unlike Mari, who continued with her perpetual scowls, Yuuko was pleasant enough. She actually spoke, though her voice was always soft and her words brief, chosen carefully to avoid giving commands to members of the crew. While Minami was ecstatic, others were more apprehensive. Mari they had grown used to, Yuuko seemed kind, but they knew next to nothing about the male siren recovering in the captain’s cabin.

Emil was in and out of the cabin as much as the sirens were, delivering food and medicine. Everyone else had been directed to keep out. “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

Guang Hong balked, leaning back and shaking his head. Enter the den of an injured siren? He had been doing a rather good job of keeping his head on his shoulders and did not want that to change. He had not been eaten during the rescue but, at that point, the siren had not been able to stand on his own two feet. “No… thank you?”

Emil laughed, jerking his head back toward the cabin. “Fine. We’ve got food and drink in him steadily now. He’s sitting up and talking, as much as sirens talk around humans. It will probably be a couple more days before he’s steady enough to get on his feet. Yuuko said that he does want to thank you, though, for pulling him out of there.”

“I’m good,” Guang Hong replied. He did not need thanks. He had gone under looking for the siren because he had known he would be absolutely no use in the fight on deck and his dead body would only slow the crew down. Added to that, he did still feel like he had some making up to do for his transgressions against Yuuri. Since Yuuri was not here, he used a proxy. After all the horror stories Guang Hong had heard about sirens, however, all the ones he had met so far had turned out to be quite decent. Mari was intimidating, but he had a feeling she would be intimidating as a human too.

“Suit yourself,” Emil shrugged, resuming his walk back to his quarters. “Although, it’s probably not a bad idea to have a siren owe you a favor.”

That was very likely true, but Guang Hong had no idea how he would utilize such a favor. Not like he had any enemy ships that needed sinking. He stayed away from the captain’s cabin over the next few days, refusing to cave even when Minami begged and pleaded for him to go in and see. Not like he had anything to say, anyway. Guang Hong had no idea that a supposedly heroic act could leave one feeling so awkward after the fact.

On a couple of occasions, Guang Hong noticed Yuuko watching him, although he carefully ducked out whenever it looked like she might approach. This was not the type of adventure he had envisioned for himself, but it was not as if beggars could be choosers. If he had his choice of adventure, he would lead a pirate force against the royal navy to seize a glorious victory and then the throne for himself! High-thrill escapades followed by lofty retirement—that was the ideal. He could use his newfound power to establish, at the very least, a tentative peace. War and exploitation gone awry was the way all of history’s great leaders found themselves overthrown.

The ship sailed toward the Queen’s waters, cautious in not crossing into them. Yuuko had made a suggestion of a destination north of the border, saying she knew of a cluster of nests there. Convincing other sirens might be easier with three already on board, and safer as well. They had protection and were working on a means to help the sirens better defend themselves as well. First and simply, Mila had armed Yuuko and Mari with sharpened daggers so that if either were to be caught by silk nets, the blades could help them where their claws struggled. Siren claws were sharp, though only at the tips of their talons. Properly spun nets resisted tearing, but a blade could slice through with ease.

A week went by since they had gained their new shipments, and the crew’s nerves did seem to settle. At their morning meal, Minami had snatched a seat next to Yuuko, hesitantly asking her questions that she answered in a series of brief phrases and hand gestures. Guang Hong, his curiosity having gotten the better of him, had crept closer with his bowl of fish soup so he could listen in.

Yuuko did seem wary of sharing information about her family, and Guang Hong could not blame her. Minami’s curiosity was partially at fault for endangering them. The only reason she was on the ship was to protect them, because the sooner their struggle was over, the sooner her children would be safe. Guang Hong’s thoughts did briefly wander to what lengths his own parents might be going to in order to find him. He quickly pushed them away. As long as Leo was safe and was not facing any hardships due to Guang Hong’s absence, that was all that mattered.

Guang Hong’s bowl of soup was nearly empty when a shadow passed over him, blocking out the morning sun. Yuuko leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with concern, and a split second later Mari dropped onto the deck from her watchful perch up on the crow’s nest. Guang Hong had a feeling he was surrounded by sirens on all sides. Slowly, he turned toward the shadow.

“Celestino—”

“I’m fine, Yuuko.” The male siren stood firm on his feet, despite the extensive bandages wrapped around his limbs. His feathers were out in full, wings sweeping the deck behind him, tufts of brown and grey coloring peeking out from between the bandages. The bruises on his face appeared to be healing, having turned a yellowish green, and the cuts on his skin scabbed over.

A pang of shame hit Guang Hong’s chest. Capturing sirens to keep as exotic pets, that was the exact type of challenge the rich and noble found worthy of their time. The type of thing his own family might be persuaded into.

“Are you the one who rescued me?”

The siren’s deep voice rolled into Guang Hong like a wave, mesmerizing. Even if he tried his damnedest, there would be no resisting the allure, the instant pull to respond to the beckoning magic. To answer the question would make for a pleased siren and nothing could be more desirable than that. “Y-yes. Well, technically, we all rescued you… I just—I just got you out of that cell.”

Without warning, the siren swooped in. Guang Hong eeped, the remainder of his breakfast clattering onto the deck as strong arms seized him. His mind prepared itself for death, reciting prayers, but instead of the pain of talons, Guang Hong found himself being lifted off his feet into a crushing bear hug. Siren hug?

“Thank you.”

The impact of the gratitude in his voice would have knocked Guang Hong off his feet if he were still standing on them. He was set down a moment later, though he did notice the siren wincing as he did so.

“You’re very small for a human.”

Guang Hong scowled at that, huffing in defense of himself. “My growth spurt is coming in late.” He did not think a slight to his height would come from a siren, since all he had met so far tended to be rather small in stature themselves. Minami said it was likely because taller and thus heavier sirens might struggle with or tire faster in flight. Celestino, however, had a head’s advantage on Guang Hong. Mari was intimidating, but a tall siren was terrifying.

“Celestino, you should be resting,” Yuuko called out, approaching and gingerly laying a hand on an unbandaged part of his arm.

“I thought I’d heal better in the fresh air. I have already spent too long inside a ship; it has become more than uncomfortable,” Celestino replied, glancing around the deck of the ship and the open sky above them. “A good meal and a bit of freedom will do my soul some good.”

Yuuko did not protest, nodding in understanding.

“We have fish soup!” Minami piped up, holding up his own bowl to demonstrate.

“Then I’ll take a serving.”

Minami scampered up, bolting down to the galley.

Yuuko fetched pillows for Celestino but he refused them, joining Guang Hong in resting on the ship’s portside railing. Minami returned holding a bowl heaped with fish, sitting himself down squarely by Guang Hong’s side once it was delivered to Celestino. Yuuko and Mari joined them, engaging in conversation as he ate. The rest of the crew that was above deck hung back, giving the sirens room.

As soon as Celestino was done with his meal, Mari turned her questions to him—the same questions the whole ship had been waiting on answers for, clinging to the hope that Celestino’s rescue might provide them guidance. A ship without a destination could hardly sail. “Did you hear where they were heading?”

Celestino shook his head. “I’ve been trying to recall anything I can. My memory is still hazy. They did not talk much around me.”

Guang Hong could not imagine what it must have been like, spending weeks bound and gagged in the brig. He had spent a single night locked up after his attempt to catch Yuuri and that had been maddening enough. If it were him, there would be no way he could be so calm on a ship full of the same species that had entrapped him. Yuuko and Mari must have worked a miracle in talking Celestino down when he awoke, because Guang Hong was pretty sure that siren magic did not work on other sirens.

“Was there anything? Any signs, any clues?”

Celestino closed his eyes, brows furrowing. “I wasn’t the first they caught, I know that. There were other feathers there but they were old. They weren’t… hers. They’d shriveled. The colors were dull. They’d been there at least a few months.”

“Did you recognize them?”

“No. But they looked to be off a macaw.”

Mari’s expression changed, an angry trill ripping from deep in her throat.

Yuuko glanced over. “You know them?”

“I met a siren colored like a macaw during the season,” Mari replied, digging into the pockets stitched into her robes. From them, she pulled her smoking pipe and then ordered Minami to fetch her an ember so she could light the tobacco and yarrow she filled it with. The deckhand raced off once again, gleeful. “He’s been missing.”

“There are a lot more humans than sirens,” Yuuko said hesitantly, her tone hopeful despite it. “But maybe, if you heard a name of some sort, it might have been a city or a port…”

The siren voices layering on top of each other had Guang Hong dizzy with magic, clinging to every word and unable to break away from the spell of them. Perhaps that was why Celestino could feel at ease. Three sirens to a single ship—the crew would stand no chance even if anyone did attempt any dirty tricks. There was no wax that would be thick enough to mute the power of three shrieking voices.

“There was…” Celestino nodded, pausing as he attempted to recall it. “A woman’s name. They said that she would be the one to keep us.”

“Please say you remember it.”

“Give me a moment,” Celestino pleaded, his eyes shut. “She was of corn. Corn… Corne… Cornell? Lady Corn—”

Guang Hong broke from his daze. “Lady Cornelia.”

Three sets of siren eyes snapped to him. Guang Hong instantly shrunk into himself, cheeks flushing.

“Yes, that was her,” Celestino confirmed. “You know of her?”

“We’ve met,” Guang Hong squeaked. She had attended his previous birthday celebration, a guest by his parents’ invitation. If he recalled correctly from the dozens of thank-you letters he had written in the days after the party, she had gifted him a magnificent set of quills. “She’s a friend of the family…”

The kindness and warmth that had been on Celestino’s face just before vanished. His eyes flashed red, feathers standing on end. Before he could lunge for Guang Hong’s neck, Mari darted in between them, blocking Guang Hong from sight with her wings. “Celestino, he’s not responsible!”

“I’m not responsible!” Guang Hong echoed, the tone of his voice embarrassingly high. “She’s not _my_ friend! I don’t even like her. She’s extremely pretentious! But I know where she resides! Her estate is just south of the capital. I’ve been there! I could take you!”

Spreading his wings, Celestino made to stand but Yuuko forced him back down. “There is no way you’re making it there in your condition. Do you want to get yourself captured again?”

“They have my mate!”

“And maybe countless more. We all realize this!” Yuuko answered, holding him down. “Flying into a human city without a plan, without numbers, it’s going to get you killed. They know how to catch us now, so we need to be smarter. The people here, they’re going to help us. But we need to be smart. We need more of us and you need to heal.”

“How long?” Celestino growled, though he did settle.

Mari glanced to the helm of the ship and called out. “Mila!”

The provisional captain was at their side in moments, tipping her head in a bow of greeting to Celestino. “Good to see you on your feet.”

“How long do we have left to sail?”

“If we keep a good speed, a week at minimum,” Mila said. “Likely more. We’ll need to be on our guard soon or we’ll be run in by Her Majesty’s navy before we even get close to the coast.”

“Yuuko said you’re heading for the northern nests?” Celestino asked, receiving a nod in response. “I could fly faster than that.”

“Not in your state,” Yuuko objected, glaring pointedly at him. “I can go.”

“Yuuko—”

“You told me you’ve had issues convincing others,” Yuuko cut off Mari’s protest. “I can fly ahead and save us time if no one there wants anything to do with human warnings. Or if the nests are empty. You and the doctor, here, can make sure Celestino is recovering.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Mila said. “Our luck hasn’t been great thus far. This way, we’ll be able to adapt if it doesn’t change.”

“It’s settled, then,” Yuuko stated. “Keep the path and I’ll find you before you reach the nests.” She gave them no chance for further discussion, spreading her wings and taking to the sky. She was in the clouds before Guang Hong could blink.

Mari let out an annoyed chatter and took off after her, returning a few minutes later. Guang Hong, having been left without her protection, slowly crept away from the male siren still on deck. For what it was worth, Celestino did send him an apologetic look.

It may not have been by their changing luck, but the week they spent cutting across the Queen’s waters was largely undisturbed. Mari kept vigilant watch from the crow’s nest when she was not aiding Emil in tending to Celestino’s healing injuries, leaving Minami and Guang Hong in charge of entertaining the male siren. Minami remained delighted. Guang Hong, unable to resist her commands, did not have a choice.

Celestino spent more time with the crew, less quiet than both Yuuko and Mari had been but just as careful with his wording. It was a world of difference from the silence with which Yuuri had interacted with them. After six quiet sunsets, Celestino did express regret that his hands were not yet steady enough to pluck the strings of an instrument and so the crew gathered, playing music while the siren sang. Mari’s voice joined in with his midway through the second song, casting a haunting duet across the waters that left everyone shaking but overjoyed. The following morning, spirits were far more chipper.

A few more days passed and a good portion of Celestino’s bandages were removed, his bruises nearly faded and scabbed-over wounds deemed better left to the open air. He took a short flight with Mari around the ship, though he did avoid the masts and netting, staying above the water. Otabek and Chris taught him work shanties, but followed Emil’s instructions to keep any labor he wished to aid on light, so that none of his wounds would reopen.

It was a sight to behold, sirens and humans working together as they sang in harmony.

The coastline was not yet in sight, but by midday they heard the chirp of a siren. A more than welcome note, as many of them had worried there was a chance that Yuuko would not return. She descended from high in the cold winter sky, landing squarely at the center of the ship.

Mari was upon her in seconds. “Well? Were they there? Are others missing?”

“Give her a chance to catch her breath,” Mila cut in, though the concern on her face betrayed her eagerness for the same answers.

“It’s good news,” Yuuko said and relief swept across the ship, lifting tension immediately. “They know. They’ve noticed.”

“They know?” Celestino asked.

Yuuko nodded. “They’ve all brought their nests together. I’ve never seen so many sirens in one place. Mates, families, single sirens. Humans have been hunting up there; they’ve noticed how ships aren’t answering to songs and said that a couple of nests were left empty. They’ve been banding together.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Mila said. “Maybe not for us, but for them.”

“They agreed to meet with you,” Yuuko explained, glancing around the ship. “With the crew. They’re tentative but they listened to me. They’ve heard the rumors about Yuuri and said there’s rumors of a siren in the capital. That must be him, if he’s there with his mate.”

“It has to be,” Mila confirmed. “That must mean Victor’s still managed to hold onto his good graces. A miracle, but he’s always good at pulling off surprises. If the sirens want to meet, we’ll meet.”

“They want to fight. They’ve been readying for it.”

A fight. A flock of sirens versus the ships hunting them. That would not stop at a single fight; that would lead into a war.

“Not yet,” Mila stated firmly. “We need Victor, first, and Yuuri. We need whatever they know. I’ll meet with the sirens. It’ll be better if we can work together. There’s too much we don’t know right now, and I’m not sure if even a hundred sirens can stand against the Queen’s forces.”

“She’s right,” Celestino said, a frown set deep on his lips. “Imagine a thousand guns trained at the sky. They’ll shoot us all before we’re close enough to sing.”

“Or we send in sirens one by one to rip out the throat of every human in their city,” Mari snapped, ruffling her feathers.

“And how long before you turn a corner and find yourself in a silk net?” Yuuko asked, shaking her head. “Tell your crew to ready themselves, Mila. They’ll… they’ll want to command you all. To make it so no one on board can harm a siren. They promise the same in exchange.”

Mila hesitated, a quiet settling over the ship. Her brows furrowed, her shoulders stiff. They had no intention of fighting any sirens themselves, but a siren’s command was binding without much exception given. To agree to such conditions would leave their ship vulnerable to any fallout.

“As long as we’re still able to protect ourselves,” Guang Hong piped in. “You know, just in case…”

Mila nodded in agreement. “Freckles brings up some good terms. And we will need to get word out to Victor. We can’t make plans any further out if we don’t know what he intends to do. As clever as he and Yuuri are, there might not be need for a fight.”

“Can you send someone out?”

“Everyone on this ship is a wanted pirate,” Mila laughed. “Except Freckles, but he’s got people hunting him as well.”

“I’ll go,” Mari said, drawing attention to herself. “I’ve passed as human before. I can find Yuuri. My brother caused this mess, so it’s my responsibility. I won’t get distracted hunting for a missing mate, and Yuuko has a family she needs to return safely to. I can find them and I can bring them back. Or if not, at least bring back whatever information they have. We’ll get our advantage back.”

No one voiced an objection, but neither did they seem at ease.

Clearing her throat, Mila straightened her posture. “Let me gather the crew. If anyone refuses… well, at this point, I think you might have permission to eat them.”

Behind her, Guang Hong’s eyes widened. He had been under the impression that there was a strict “no eating the crew” rule. However, times were changing. By the grace of Lady Luck, while some expressed concern in meeting with a flock of sirens, no one refused. Discussion settled, Mila turned the ship’s rudder, aiming them inland toward the northern cliffs housing a dozen siren nests.

When Guang Hong spied the coast on the horizon, he forced himself to swallow down his nerves. No one said that a pirate’s life was going to be easy. The thought was reinforced mere moments later, when a crewman in the crow’s nest sounded an alarm.

“Ship off the portside quarter, flying navy colors!”

Guang Hong knew he was meant to get onto the gundeck, to help in readying weapons should the need for them arise. His curiosity won over and he snuck behind Mila as she rushed into position, spyglass in hand. She was flocked by two female sirens, one at each side.

“How much of a problem will they be?”

“Hard to say,” Mila replied, lowering the spyglass to her side and snapping it shut. “I recognize both the captain and the ship. They used to be ours…”


	9. One Step Forward...

“And you criticized Yakov for holding a child hostage.” The amusement in Lilia’s tone was grating. Yuuri’s irritated scowl was enough of an indication that he felt the same. 

With a heavy sigh, Victor sat down beside his husband, the plush cushions of the gallery room sofa sinking in beneath him. Despite the interruption, the ball had been a grand success. Guests departed with praise on their lips and smiles on their faces. Even those who had seemed hesitant at the start of the evening proactively gave him and Yuuri their parting greetings, wishing them the best of luck. It appeared Yuuri had endeared himself to them with the way he had accepted all the dances requested of him and how he had silently interacted, making women giggle and men laugh in delight as they guessed his graceful gestures and followed his in-palm writing. Whether or not Yuuri had felt the same in return was left to be determined. 

“We did not take him hostage,” Victor dismissed, rubbing at his temples. He was grateful that he had shied away from the bubbling alcohol served throughout the ball, certain that he would have not been able to deal with Lady Ji if drunk. Her appearance and demands were a challenge, but also an opportunity. “It’s a complicated situation.”

After Lady Ji had been removed from the ballroom, Victor had chased after her. He did not need a noble mother raising hell against him, nor did he want her to believe that he bore no concern for her plight. However, neither could he tell her that her son had run off to join a pirate crew of his own volition. He doubted she would believe him if he did. At some point, Victor might need an ally who was not a wanted pirate. If the public believed young Freckles to be a kidnapped noble boy, that could work to their advantage. Yet in that moment, all Victor could do was try to reassure her that her son was safe and that, as a show of good will, Victor would do all that he could to ensure he would be brought home safely. She had been released and sent off calmed, if not satisfied. 

“How do you intend to fetch her boy for her then?” Lilia questioned. 

That was a question to which Victor did not have an answer. Bringing the crew in to the capital was too great of a risk. Everyone on board had a price on their heads and Victor did not trust the navy to let them sail away freely, even if Lilia promised it. During the time he spent on Yakov’s ship, it had been made abundantly clear that Victor did not have the support of Lilia’s military forces. “I don’t suppose you would let Yuuri fly out to get him?”

Lilia’s lack of a response combined with her thinned lips was all the answer that Victor needed. 

If they were able to somehow get Freckles, it would be the perfect chance to reconnect with the crew. They could use the time to communicate, to exchange information, and to adapt their plans. The ship was meant to be out contacting and warning sirens, but even with Mari’s aid, they had no way of knowing how successful they had been. Or if they were still alive at all. It would only take one angry siren ramming the side of the ship to do them in. Victor had faith in his crew, but denying the risks would be foolish. 

Even if they did manage to arrange Freckles’ return, the question remained whether the boy would come willingly—if he had had enough of his pirate adventure, or if he had decided that ship life suited him more than privileged living on a grand estate. He had yet to be frightened off by cannon battles and multitudes of sirens, so perhaps they were out of luck there. 

“Give me a ship,” Victor said, placing his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. It was well late, and in a few hours the sun would be rising. His own thoughts were fuzzy with exhaustion and if Lilia’s were the same, he might be granted his request. “I’ll take a crew of your men and sail out to meet them. They’ll give me the boy and we’ll have made a new supporter amongst the nobles. Isn’t that what you want?” 

As for how they would find his ship, Victor would not be surprised if one or more of the ships in the armada Yakov had brought after him had lingered in the waters, trailing Victor’s crew in secrecy. 

“Or I can simply send out a ship to get him,” Lilia countered, shaking her head. “I need you here, Vitya. Tonight went well. You need to reinforce it. You were a good captain, but that time has passed. You need to be a good ruler. You’ve won over a few members of the court, but you’ll need more.”

“Giving out empty promises won’t do anything to build support,” Victor argued. “A mother waiting and wondering about her son will do more harm with her words than any good I can build up with mine.” 

“So let me take care of it,” Lilia said. She did look tired, as if the crown on her head weighed heavily. “The winter festival is coming up. I want you there. A week will be long enough for the praises about you and Yuuri to spread, and then you’ll make your debut to your people.”

Against his side, Yuuri stiffened. Victor squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll remind you of what transpired at the last festival Yuuri and I attended.”

“People here have only heard whispered rumors about that,” Lilia dismissed with a wave of her hand. “All the more reason to replace those ideas. You will go out and make a good impression. There’s no better way to buy fondness than spending some gold at public festivities. People are worried, Vitya, you know that. So take away their concerns. Show them a charming prince and a kind siren, and we won’t have to worry anymore.”

“I don’t think hearts are won over so easily,” Victor warned. Yuuri had spent weeks, months, gaining the trust of the crew. It had not happened over the course of an afternoon, nor even after he had defended them from a harpy attack. Perhaps nobility could be plied with the glamor of a royal ball, but the people did not put aside their worries with such cheap showmanship. 

“No. However, it is a start,” Lilia insisted. She smoothed down the skirts of her gown and then raised her hands above her head, removing the bejeweled crown she had worn for the ball. “I know you are still hesitant, Vitya. But think of what you can achieve here and the life you can live. I did not make a mistake in choosing you. You will be a good king.”

For how often she tried to reassure him of it, Victor was starting to believe she was hoping to reassure herself. “If you send a ship for the boy, they won’t hand him over without a fight. You will risk hurting him, or worse.”

“Don’t forget who it was that taught you how to get your way,” Lilia answered, the smile at the corners of her mouth subtle yet confident. “I can assure you, I know how to negotiate with pirates. Now, please, my dear boy, leave your Queen to rest. And take your husband to bed before he falls asleep in a royal’s presence.”

Victor glanced down at Yuuri, who had leaned his head on Victor’s shoulder, his lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep himself from dozing off. Victor chuckled and pressed his lips to the top of Yuuri’s head. “Come on, lovebird.”

Yuuri’s hand in his own, Victor waited for Lilia to rise but she remained seated, waving him on. He bowed his head to her while Yuuri merely nodded, departing without ceremony. They had an escort back to their room, no doubt on Lilia’s orders. With how often they were being surprised from within a crowd, Victor did not protest. He wondered if Lilia intended to have them flanked by guards when attending the festival as well, although that would disrupt any relationship building they were meant to be doing. Safety had to be weighed against progress. 

In their room, Victor helped Yuuri remove the layers of his ball clothing. He ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and then traced them down along the curve of his jaw to tip his face up by his chin. “Did you have a good time?”

The low churr that left Yuuri’s throat was a conflicted one. 

“Mmmm, I know.” Spending an evening dancing with Yuuri while enjoying good music, good food, and good drink should have been ideal. Yet it was not their place. Victor would have preferred to have flat ale in his glass, as long as he had a fiddle in his hands and could witness the iridescence in Yuuri’s wings as he danced upon a swaying wooden deck. In their case, wealth and power could not buy them freedom. “But it was worth it.”

They now knew where to start their search and had gained a chance to get word out to the crew. If Lilia insisted on sending a ship to chase them down and fetch Guang Hong, Victor could write a letter to convince them to hand the boy over without conflict. Mila was smart, and Mari was smart. Together, he and Yuuri could craft their words to carry a message to them without tipping off whatever navy officer would read it. If they were to find out who would captain the ship, Yuuri might be able to whisper a command to them, ensuring that no harm would come to the crew. This was good. This was headway. 

“That bird…” Yuuri said softly, wrapping his fingers around Victor’s wrists. “If it’s a siren…”

“I hope we’re wrong about that,” Victor replied, but the uneasy feeling in regard to it refused to leave his belly. “We are going to find out and soon. Lilia wants us to make nice with the nobles, so we will. If this Lady Cornelia is funding the hunts, I’m sure she’d be delighted to be paid a visit by the prince and his siren.”

“Give me the direction and I’ll fly there right now myself,” Yuuri muttered, dropping his forehead onto Victor’s chest. 

“As thrilling as it would be to watch you to rip out another heart, we’re not trying to spark a revolution.” Maybe after, if their suspicions were indeed confirmed. “Be patient.”

Yuuri said nothing, his hands on Victor’s chest and fingers curling in to grip the fabric of his ball attire. 

They had spent so long with Yuuri needing to write out his words, to hold back his voice, and now that he no longer needed to do so when they were alone, to hear silence from him felt wrong. “Tell me what’s on your mind, lovebird.”

Yuuri did not speak immediately, his grip tightening. Taking in a slow and unsteady breath, he gazed up at Victor. “It’s not your species that’s suffering.”

That cut like a knife to his heart. “You’re right. You are, I know. But if we move too fast, if we make mistakes and play our hand before we’re ready, we’ll lose our chance. We might save one, but what about the rest? What happens if our haste sparks a war before we’re ready? We’ll lose everything. And everyone.”

“I just can’t sit here waiting anymore,” Yuuri protested. 

Victor agreed. Waiting gave them little benefit. They had a lead; they could start pushing. “Tomorrow, I’ll find someone who will talk. There will be a maid or a messenger who will know all the gossip. The days in the palace are long, but they’re shorter when there’s chat to be had. And if I can’t make them talk, you can.”

Yuuri smiled at that, nodding. 

If Lilia wanted them to strengthen relationships and dive into their new roles, they would. The following morning, Victor requested a valet for himself, rejecting several before settling on one who seemed to be at ease with idle chatter. By evening, Victor had finished writing short letters of appreciation to those who had attended the ball, his wrist and fingers cramped but his curiosity far more sated than he had anticipated. 

His valet talked freely about the trend of feathers as glove decorations, relaying to Victor all the rumors that had swirled about the capital about himself and Yuuri. Many were unsurprising. First were the rumors that Victor had found himself a lover, a quiet and foreign beauty that did not speak their language. How scandalous. Then came the rumors that the beauty did speak, in a voice so exquisite that a single word would leave the listener intoxicated by it. The rumors had transformed from there, taking on lives of their own. 

The valet said that many had believed Yuuri to be foreign royalty, while others believed him to be a mer that took on legs on land. Those had persisted until a merchant ship Victor’s crew had let go returned to the capital to tell tales of the wings on Victor’s new shipmate. There had been talk of harpies, of delusions and lies, of tall tales spun for attention and a free drink in a tavern. And then someone had dared to suggest the notion that Victor’s lover was a siren. What a cruel twist of fate; it was sympathy that had done them in. 

Victor asked for the names of those who had expressed interest in gaining a siren for themselves. He received only the one he was already familiar with, but he did learn something new. The sum rumored to be on offer for a captured siren was far greater than Victor would have thought, but only a couple of ships had been brave enough to boast that they considered the gold to be worth the risk. That meant their search would be narrow. Good. 

When sundown arrived, Victor handed off the stacks of letters to his valet and gave his sincere thanks. He should have started asking questions sooner. 

As for Yuuri, Victor had sent him down to the tailor. It was about time Yuuri received clothing he would be comfortable wearing while performing their official duties and the tailor would have knowledge of the trends within the capital, including more information on the siren-inspired ones. 

They reunited for dinner and were informed that Lilia would not be joining them, as she was feeling under the weather following the festivities of the ball. That was fine by Victor. It let him and Yuuri dine in peace, whispering what they had learned to one another. 

The rest of the week, they saw nothing of Lilia. When Victor inquired after her, he was informed that she was otherwise engaged. Midway through, he did learn that she had sent a message out to ships already out on the water, informing them to seek out the noble boy aboard Victor’s ship. Victor contained his displeasure, balling his hands into fists at his sides as he accepted the information. He had a plan for how he could use Freckles’ unique situation, but it would now have to be adjusted. He hoped the boy was still up for a bit more adventure. 

The morning of the winter festival, Victor received exactly what he had been hoping for. In addition to the thank-you letters, he had sent out several to the local nobility who had not attended or else refused invitations to the ball. They were simple but formal, expressing his desire to form mutually beneficial relationships prior to his coronation. In response, he had received invitations to receptions, including one hosted by Lady Cornelia at her estate. Yuuri had nearly ripped the letter out of Victor’s hands in his eagerness to read it for himself. They would have to wait, but not for long. 

The winter festival in the capital was quite different from that of the summer festival in the sister port. There would be music and merrymaking, but the morning had arrived with frost coating the ground. Yuuri had rolled out of bed still wrapped in the blanket and took it with him when he went to bathe. He attempted to keep it on afterwards as well, causing Victor to chuckle at his pout when he finally managed to pry it away. 

Yuuri had been given his first set of clothing from the palace tailor. The trousers were fitted at his waist but flowed loosely to grant Yuuri the same freedom of movement as his robes would. If Yuuri ever sprang a tail while wearing them, the issue would remain, however they were not as restrictive as Victor’s were on him. The shirt was similarly designed, expertly following the line of Yuuri’s shoulders while the material of the sleeves dipped before returning to snug hems around his wrists. The fabric at the front was folded into three pleats at either side of his chest, again granting Yuuri mobility while maintaining a formal look. Yuuri was delighted with the results, chirping compliments. 

The shoes were unavoidable, though Victor made sure Yuuri had socks that were not so tight that they pressed into his skin. To keep him warm, he draped a maroon-dyed cloak around Yuuri’s shoulders, an adequate substitute for the blanket he had wanted to wear out. 

Despite it being day, the oil lamps that lit the streets in the evenings remained on, casting a mild warmth beneath them. Shopkeepers would be spending the morning setting up tables just outside their doors, offering warm mead and hot mulled wine. The baker would leave his windows open so the smell of bread filled with spiced meats would waft out onto the street. Fur merchants would be out showing off their wares, hoping to tempt any cold soul who had a good bit of gold in their pockets. 

Growing up, Victor had never had a chance to attend the winter festival. The timing was always wrong. He was studying, he was training, he was traveling, he was out on the water. Attending such a festival was not a luxury he had been afforded. Now, however, being able to experience it for the first time with Yuuri seemed like a gift. 

They arrived early, before the streets had a chance to fill with people. Yuuri kept his cloak tightly bound, shielding himself from the chill. The gloves on his hands covered his markings, though there would be no hiding what he was. At his side, Victor wore a coat of royal blue, determined to play his part for the day. 

Their presence was discovered immediately, as evidenced by several shopkeepers retreating inside and shutting their doors. Victor did not blame them. If in their position, he would also have his concerns about the pirate and the siren who had caused havoc the last time they had attended a festival. 

They did not push, wandering the streets that slowly took on more people. Victor spoke softly to Yuuri as they walked, showing him the street corner where he had found his poodle as a child, and pointing out a sweet shop he used to visit on the rare days he had enough coins to spare. Yuuri took Victor by the hand and tugged him inside, ignoring Victor’s quiet protests. 

The interior of the shop was the same as Victor remembered it. Open boxes and large glass jars lined shelves, overflowing with paper-wrapped confections. Caramels, toffees, sugared citrus rinds. Slim bars of chocolate and honey nut brittle sat behind the counter, afforded only to the genuinely wealthy. Yuuri glanced around with a sparkle in his eyes, selecting a little bit of everything. 

As the aged shopkeeper filled a carry pouch with the purchases for Yuuri, her eyes shifted to Victor. “It’s good to see you’re still healthy, your Highness.”

Victor startled slightly, turning quickly to smile. “I don’t think that title fits me very well.” 

“I can’t go on calling you little Vitya. You’ve grown so much since I saw you last.”

“I suppose,” Victor conceded. “But I see you are still slipping extra treats into my bag.”

“It’s not for you,” she scolded, shaking her head. “It’s for your lovely companion here. He’s the one purchasing it.” 

Yuuri grinned pointedly at Victor as he dropped coins into the woman’s hands. Victor chuckled in acceptance. It had been Yuuri’s idea to come in, after all, and a fine one at that. Victor needed to start with those whom he used to know, whom he knew had been fond of him. The capital had once been his home, and he would be wise to take advantage of the connections that remained. 

Before they left the shop, Yuuri clapped his hands together in gratitude, bowing his head to the shopkeeper. Victor smiled to himself. Yuuri would not bow to royalty, but he would to the owner of a candy shop. Next time, Victor would have to bring around mango skins for her to candy and watch Yuuri switch allegiances altogether. 

The bag of candy did not last long, though by no fault of their own. Many of those who had come out to partake of the winter celebration avoided them, eyes growing wide when recognition struck. Others ducked their heads, whether as a bow or an attempt to hide their faces. Even from under shop awnings and in the shadows of alleyways, they received stares and hushed whispers. The children that passed them, however, were far more honest. It was only natural for them to be curious when the crowd parted, making room for Victor and Yuuri. 

A young boy pointed, asking his father who they were. He was tugged away, his question answered by a mutter. A girl who had left her parent’s side bounced up to them, waving at Yuuri in a request for him to bend down. Yuuri did, squatting so that he was level with her. 

“Is it true that you’re a bird?” she asked, her question loud enough that several people passing them froze, undoubtedly to listen. 

Her mother rushed forward, stammering out an apology. “Y-your Highness, please forgive her.”

“It’s fine,” Victor dismissed. “He isn’t a bird, he’s a siren.”

As if to contradict Victor’s point, Yuuri chirped. 

The girl giggled. “He sounds like a bird.”

Yuuri chirped again and held out his bag of wrapped confections, welcoming her to take one. She did, curtsying in thanks, and rejoined her mother while wearing a satisfied grin. The concern on her mother’s face did fade into relief and she bowed deeply prior to shuffling her daughter off. Not a moment later, another child popped up, asking Yuuri if he could have a candy as well. Others joined him.

Soon, the candy was gone and the mood around them had lightened. The shying away had not stopped, though it did diminish more and more as murmurs about the prince and siren spread. 

As the morning hours turned to noon, the cautious atmosphere turned merry. Victor and Yuuri shared a cup of hot wine, warming themselves from the continued chill. They purchased food from the vendors selling steaming cakes and meat-stuffed buns, and afterwards Victor bought Yuuri a thicker pair of gloves, as he had whispered to Victor that his hands were cold. 

More and more people crowded the streets, and more than once Victor had to move Yuuri out of the way of a passing carriage. From the main square not far from them, music had begun to play, adding to the activity. Victor had his shoulder bumped and his elbow nudged, especially when they were stopped by someone who raised their voice at them, seizing the opportunity brought by the uncommon sight of royalty amongst the masses. Victor kept the conversations they did engage in short and polite, taking note of when Yuuri’s expression began to grow weary. 

The ball had been one thing—controlled, with couples and members of the court taking their turns in interactions. As the number of people who approached them on the streets increased, some to call out greetings and others to simply sneak a glance, the open space grew miniscule. Victor wound his arm around Yuuri’s waist, keeping him close and pulling him closer still when he felt Yuuri start to tense. Sirens tended to live in isolation and no matter how unusual Yuuri was, a street so overcome with humans that they could barely move was almost intolerable for Victor. They had been in such situations before, but Victor did not want to find out what would happen if Yuuri were finally to be overwhelmed by a crowd. “Are you okay, lovebird?”

Yuuri faced Victor and pressed himself against Victor’s chest, shaking his head in aborted movements. “No.”

Victor moved them immediately. He kept Yuuri tightly at his side, pushing them past lines of people until they reached the less cluttered edge of the street. The apprehensive glaze over Yuuri’s eyes remained, so Victor shifted them on toward the city square in the hope that the open space and the music playing would calm Yuuri’s nerves. It worked; the ridged line of Yuuri’s shoulders dropped once they were out of the madness of the crowd. 

The relief did not last for long. Curiosity was too great a motivator and, in such numbers, chatter spread like wildfire. As they were approached again, a woman requesting permission to shake Victor’s hands while a man shouted a question about the thrills of piracy, Victor did his best to balance the formal manners of the position he was meant to hold and his need to ensure that Yuuri was not over-stressed.

As for Yuuri, the hours they had spent amongst the crowd had emboldened people to approach him. People craned around him, looking for feathers, and an older child darted past, lifting up his cloak and yelling out that there was no tail to be found. Someone asked to see his hands and the first few times Yuuri had shown them off, his gloves removed. But after the tenth or twentieth request, he began drawing them in, hiding them out of sight as he shrank into Victor’s side. 

From a distance, someone shouted for Yuuri to show his wings. Yuuri ignored them. Another loud voice demanded to know why the siren did not sing. Yuuri ignored them too. Really, it was hardly different from the ball in that regard but, as it continued, it struck Victor how Yuuri was seen: like a bird in a cage, being compelled to perform tricks. 

The free space of the city square filled with bodies, and Victor began to look for a way out. Behind them, street musicians played, high notes screeching from fiddles. The previous cold of the winter day had been erased by the heat generated by the mass of the crowds, building discomfort through the sweat dripping down the line of Victor’s back. The noise of the voices surrounding them grew, droning, punctuated one moment by laughter and another by a shout. 

Victor found Yuuri’s hand and traced his fingers up to wrap around Yuuri’s wrist, seeking his pulse. It raced so fast that Victor could not count it.

Someone bumped into Victor’s back, knocking him forward a step. He heard an apology over his shoulder, then a swear of recognition. Victor paid it no mind, turning Yuuri into him and cupping Yuuri’s face in his hands. His dark eyes were wide but glossy, his lips parted with his breathing uneven and growing ragged. Even in Victor’s hands, Yuuri trembled. It was enough. It was more than enough. “Let’s go, lovebird,” Victor stated firmly, and Yuuri nodded. 

Going was an easy wish to make, yet a harder one to accomplish. Victor threaded his fingers through Yuuri’s, keeping a tight hold of his hand as he pushed them through the crowd. He angled his shoulders, using his body to cut space between those huddled together, offering weak smiles and polite apologies. Yuuri followed after him, gripping onto Victor’s hand so forcefully that it hurt. 

Ahead of them, at the mouth of a side street that led in from the harbor, a delivery merchant was attempting to maneuver a carriage past the festival attendees. Victor pitied the horse at the front, the creature visibly spooked by all the activity surrounding it. 

Shifting them away from the carriage and the blocked path resulting from it, Victor tugged on Yuuri’s hand, wanting to keep Yuuri’s focus on him. Keep him calm, keep him settled, keep him moving. Behind them, one of the instruments struck a sore note, shrill and distressing. A buzzing timbre joined the buzzing of the noise surrounding them, another off-tune chord piercing the air. The hair on the back of Victor’s neck stood up and, as he turned to see what ungodly instrument the musicians had brought out to play, Yuuri bolted. 

“Yuuri!”

Had Victor had time to shout a warning, Yuuri still would not have heard it. He had clamped his hands over his ears, ducking his head away from the screaming instrument strings. From inside his chest, Victor’s heart tumbled over itself, attempting to flee up his throat and drag him after Yuuri. His darling, panicked lovebird shoved through the crowd straight into the path of the carriage. 

The startled horse reared, raising up on its hind legs as it brayed. Victor prepared for the worst, rushing forward as best as he could manage without taking his eyes off the scene before him. Although Yuuri’s wings did not burst forth, his hands did transform into the claws of a siren, the feathers at his ears spiked along with the rest of his markings. Victor was afraid he would witness blood but when the horse descended from its rear, Yuuri only knocked it away, shielding himself from its hooves with his arms. It was Yuuri’s shriek that ripped through the square, filled with fear and foreboding. 

The force of Yuuri’s defense had sent the horse off-balance, its hooves slipping on the cobbled ground, and as it fell, it took the carriage with it. Wood crashed into stone and splintered, the driver yelping as he hit the ground. The crates that had filled the carriage tumbled off, some cracking and others splitting open to spill their contents. 

Those nearby surged forward, only to be stopped in their tracks by Yuuri screaming.“Get away from me!”

The effect was instantaneous. The crowd parted away from Yuuri, leaving him isolated in the city square. Men, women, and children alike tripped over themselves and each other in their haste to obey the siren command. As the people fell away, Victor forced himself through. He wrapped himself around Yuuri, protecting him like a shield. With each step they took, those nearest dashed aside, giving them room to move and breathe where previously there had been none. 

“It’s okay, lovebird. I’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe,” Victor whispered on a loop, guiding Yuuri away from the city center and the disrupted festivities. 

Yuuri continued to shake, trembling within Victor’s arms even after they were far from the noise and the crowds, far from the hellbeast that had reared at him. Victor drew him in, holding him close, cradling Yuuri’s head against his chest as he muttered reassurances. Yuuri’s claws formed loose fists, trapped between their bodies. His feathers did not fade away. 

Victor should have known. He should have seen it coming. Human reactions were predictable, and yet he had been foolish enough to believe that this time would be different. He had not expected people’s boldness to manifest so rapidly. 

Conflict stuck in his throat and yet he swallowed it down, his words tremoring as he spoke them. “Lovebird… lovebird, this is your chance. You can fly. Fly out of here, fly back to the ship. I know you can find them. Please.”

Yuuri did not pull away, face buried between the buttons of Victor’s coat. “I won’t leave you.”

No, of course he wouldn’t. And with the way Yuuri trembled, he was in no condition to fly them both. 

Their return to the palace caused a ruckus, attendants and guards flocking them. Yuuri had calmed enough to take the carriage by the time their driver found them, but being crowded again caused his feathers to spike and his eyes to flash red. All fell away without needing to be ordered, expressing quieted concern. 

Once back within the palace, Yuuri hid away in their room, making a nest for himself in the bed of blankets and pillows, concealing his shame over his panic. It was not his fault, Victor assured him, relieved when Yuuri clung onto his arm and nodded as he listened. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Victor’s, for having the gall to hope that they could make any of this work with minimal conflict. Now that Yuuri had bared his claws, how long would it be before protests came pounding on the palace doors? 

With the arrival of the afternoon came Lilia, her expression strict as she demanded an explanation. Victor gave her an honest one, then he offered more. If she wanted him to rule, he would, but he could not do so on his own. He needed strength and support as a barrier lest his opposition came chasing after Yuuri. She wanted him to win over the nobility and the court, so he would. He would take whatever escort she desired, but he needed to leave the palace walls so he could build up the bonds she wanted. 

She granted him permission. 

That night, rest did not come easily to either of them. Victor kept Yuuri within the safety of his arms and they spoke in hushed voices despite the privacy of their room, making plans. The longer they waited, the greater the risk. It was time to press on. 

When sleep finally washed over Yuuri, nightmares crept in. Victor stirred him from them with soothing words and covered Yuuri’s body with his own, drowning the anxiety out with love. Yuuri clutched onto Victor with his feathers on full display, his cries melancholy and sweet against Victor’s kisses. 

Morning came with no better news. Victor awoke to find that the base of the bed was littered with small black feathers, their quill tips visible. He leaned over his dozing husband, taking hold of one of Yuuri’s hands and turning it over. The inside of his wrist was pale, the black of his markings erased from it as if the ink had leached out. Yuuri had started plucking again.


	10. Two Steps Back

The grating asperity of the morning became grimmer when the Queen herself came rushing in to their room, her hands bunched into her skirts to pull them up and out of the way. Victor could have read the concern on her face from across the courtyard. “That soon?” he chuckled, holding his palms out in offer to Yuuri. His siren was already dressed, as they had both expected that they might have to move quickly.

“Did you see it already?” Lilia asked, the concern in her tone sounding genuine. It would be, if it indeed turned out that her chosen heir and his mate had sparked a revolt.

“No, but I guessed it would be coming.” Yuuri had made one small mistake. He had been overwhelmed and his response had been to run, to protect himself. He had caused no harm. In fact, Yuuri had made sure to move everyone out of the way, protecting them.

Regrettably, it would not have seemed that way from the point of view of those who had been hit by his command. In that one blissful moment, Yuuri’s voice would have promised a world full of wonders to all that obeyed. And left behind a world full of fear as soon as the effects of the magic had subsided. It would be unnerving, knowing exactly how easily a single siren could manipulate a city square brimming with humans. Combined with the unease of having a traitorous pirate for a king, a resulting protest would be perfectly understandable.

“Do they have torches and pitchforks, or is it still too early in the morning for that?”

“This isn’t a game, Vitya,” Lilia snapped. All the color was gone from her face, her paleness accentuated by the lack of rouge on her lips and powder on her cheeks. “You have to go, now.”

“Where, pray tell?” Victor was all for the chance to escape the palace. Thus far, nothing about their presence in the capital had gone according to plan. They faced resistance from within the royal court, resistance from within the navy, resistance from the subjects of Lilia’s kingdom. In Victor’s opinion, the situation appeared to be rather hopeless. It was a wonder Lilia remained so determined to have him succeed her. Or perhaps, she lacked an acceptable alternative.

“I received the messenger back from Lady Cornelia. She will welcome you to her estate.” Between each pause in her words, Lilia’s eyes flickered toward the windows as if she feared that any moment they might reveal a mass of dissidents. “Yakov is waiting for you at the stables. A coach will meet you once you’re past the city.”

Taking a royal procession past the mob of protestors at the palace gates would do nothing to quell the conflict. However, Victor doubted that sneaking past it was the answer. Not that it mattered. If Lilia wanted them out safely and her resolution was to send them to woo nobles, that they could do. They had the opportunity to learn whatever knowledge Lady Cornelia had of sirens, and they would seize it.

Victor smiled. “My dear Lilia, a horse is the main reason you have people pushing on your gates and you’re still asking Yuuri to ride one?”

“There is no other choice,” Lilia responded. She had dropped her skirts, placing one hand on her chest instead. “Unless your husband is willing to step outside and compel the masses to obey him.”

Yuuri scowled. They all knew was not a realistic solution. Although Victor would admit, it would be something to test the extent of Yuuri’s magic. If he could command an entire kingdom to obey him indefinitely, their every problem would be solved. The image of Yuuri seated upon a throne of mangoes returned to Victor’s mind.

“We’ll go.”

To Yuuri’s credit, when they reached the stables he faced the hellbeasts there with nerves of steel. His entire body was stiff and his gaze vigilant as he listened to barked instructions, yet he mounted the steed he and Victor were to take with only a second’s hesitation.

They accepted worn, battered cloaks meant to mask their identities until they were past the city that had begun to turn against them. To think, they had done so little to deserve it. Victor kissed the marks by Yuuri’s ear before covering his hair and the sides of his face with the cloak’s hood, whispering for Yuuri to stay strong and hold on. They would not go at speed, in order to avoid suspicion, but a slower pace meant a longer exposure to nerves.

 _I’ll be fine,_ Yuuri wrote across the back of Victor’s shoulder, staying quiet as Yakov and two palace guards readied themselves on horses of their own.

“Is that so?”

_I commanded myself to be fine._

Victor smiled. Yuuri was keeping up his good humor; that was a relief. He had ducked his face away from Victor earlier in the morning, when Victor had inquired about the feathers on the floor. If their efforts did not turn toward the better soon, Victor would feel like plucking too.

Yakov led them out of the palace walls through the garden gates, Victor quickly amused as they maneuvered the horses down the path between rows of flowers. As a child he had been scolded for playing on the garden grass, yet now the palace guards were guiding their horses through it. A small hint of the overall hypocrisy, but present everywhere were reminders of why Victor had left.

Victor regretted that they would not pass by the front gates, curious to see how large a crowd he and Yuuri had produced. Enough to worry Lilia. And, in that case, it would be enough to worry Yuuri. The route they took south, cutting toward the forest that flanked the capital, was quiet compared to the bustle of the sea on the other side. Yuuri’s arms stayed wound around Victor’s waist, his heartbeat and breathing steady against Victor’s back.

They reached the forest’s edge without concern, meeting with the convoy awaiting them. The palace guards looped back to make sure they had not been followed.

Several carriages were there to greet them, along with a considerable amount of men that stood with the posture of soldiers. Victor was less than pleased to see Michele amongst them.

“Such fanfare for a simple visit,” Victor remarked as he dismounted from his horse, holding out his arms to help Yuuri. The siren touched down gently on his feet, nodding in recognition at those who had bowed upon their arrival.

“You haven’t made many friends for yourself,” Yakov growled, brushing past them to check the carriage designated for Victor and Yuuri. “These men have volunteered to protect you. Be grateful.”

While Victor had his doubts in regard to that statement, he diligently expressed gratitude. In addition, Yuuri chirped his thanks. By the half-concealed grimaces that swept across expressions, Victor did not think it wise to consider themselves safe.

“Get in, boy.” Yakov had taken the seat beside the carriage driver, adjusting the sword sheath at his side. “And keep vigilant.”

Victor had every intention of doing so.

A trek by carriage was not short, nor was it comfortable after the hours grew long. Unlike the sails of a ship that knew no fatigue, well-treated horses needed a moderate pace and rest. The hours did give them time to adjust their plans. If Lady Cornelia was keeping sirens, it would not be difficult for them to determine where. Victor’s tendency toward diplomacy was wearing thin. A single whisper from Yuuri would have the same effect as months of trust-building and flattery.

If a revolt was stirring within the capital, they could use it. They could agitate it further, ensure that all turned against the idea of Victor as king. It was sooner than expected, but it could work. If Mila had succeeded in uniting with other sirens, they were missing only a single piece: a replacement for the throne. Victor had an idea of where they could find one.

The morning turned into noon, which slowly bled into the evening. Victor had tucked parchment into the inside of his coat and slipped a small bottle of ink into his pocket. He spent hours thinking of how to script a message to his crew that would relay what was needed, yet not give away their plot if anyone else were to read it. The codes Victor knew belonged to Lilia’s military and there had never been a necessity to develop one to be used amongst his crew. They were meant to be pirates, looping ships on the seas and nothing more. If only Yuuri could whistle a message to a bird that would then carry it to Mari. In the end, the parchment remained blank.

They reached Lady Cornelia’s estate by nightfall. Yuuri was out of the carriage the moment the door was opened for them, rolling his shoulders and breathing a sigh of relief. Victor felt much the same. The property surrounding the Cornelia Estate was grand. Victor knew little of her, though from what he had learned at the palace and the views before him, it was easy to see how such wealth might buy a few siren-hunting expeditions.

While the grounds leading into most estates favored marble decorations and aesthetically trimmed flowers, Lady Cornelia appeared to be nurturing an arboretum. Pines of the northern woods grew across from tropical palms that had been wrapped in cloth, likely to shield them from the cold of winter. Pear trees grew opposite those bearing leaves that resembled those of the kiwi. Victor exchanged a look with Yuuri, silently confirming that they both found it odd.

The entrance hall of the estate was also wooden, dark like polished ebony. There was no ceiling; instead, a dome constructed of glass and metal arched above them. Rather than paintings or statues, the inside of Lady Cornelia’s manor was filled with plants, from growing trees to potted blossoms with petals closed for the evening. Victor was reminded of a greenhouse. Except that, in addition to the greenery, bird cages were set at either end of the hall and each one housed a yellow canary. They were in the right place.

“Oh, your highness! And his grace! Welcome, welcome to my humble home!”

Lady Cornelia was not what Victor had expected. She was of a stout build, with full cheeks and a full bust, and a motherly presence. Her hair was a fierce red that could have rivaled Mila’s, and she wore a gown to match. Victor did take note of the golden stitching making patterns on the skirt, as they formed feathers.

Dipping his head respectfully, Victor accepted the greeting. “Lady Cornelia, I presume? Pleased to make your acquaintance, at last.”

“I do apologize for missing the invitation to the ball. I had other arrangements that simply could not be ignored on such short notice, you’ll understand.” Lady Cornelia bustled around them, welcoming in the entirety of their escort, as warm as a baker. “But I was so thrilled to hear you wished to come visit, so honored. The returned prince and his lovely mate—oh, I’ve heard so much about you. And look at him, even more beautiful than they’ve said. They’ve got you in our awful clothing, though, haven’t they, my dear bird? Do feel free to spread your wings in here, if you please. You’ll see that your kind is quite welcome here.” Her laugh was bubbly and natural, her fretting none too pushy.

Yuuri still bristled, drawing away when she approached.

Lady Cornelia stopped moving the moment she noticed. Rather than seeming upset, she smiled and took a step back. “My apologies, your grace. I’m forward by nature. I do see you looking at my birds and I assure you, they’re content.” To her point, she swept across the hall, opening up two of the cages by the doorway. The birds inside ruffled their wings but did not fly out, chirping quietly. After a minute of waiting, she closed them up again. “It’s bedtime, you see. They’ve already had their supper and they’re probably eager for some shut-eye.”

Yuuri said nothing.

“You’ll have had a long trip. It must have been exhausting. Let’s get you all washed and changed, and we’ll all chat over a good meal. How many of your men are staying?”

Victor turned. The other two carriages had separated from them a few hours into the journey, though he could not be sure whether they had been decoys that would be returning to the palace or if Lilia had sent them on other business. Altogether, they had twenty men arrive with them at Lady Cornelia’s, a quarter of them palace guards, a quarter wearing navy insignia, and half from Lilia’s land army forces. He expected at least a portion of them to return with Yakov, once Victor’s safe arrival had been confirmed. He was not mistaken.

“Myself and these four will be taking our leave,” Yakov stated, waving at the men at his side. “The Queen entrusts Victor to your care.”

“If you won’t stay for a meal, allow my valet to fetch you some food that you may take on your road back,” Lady Cornelia insisted, giving orders to the man who had been quietly waiting behind her. “Won’t do to have you weak upon your return to Her Majesty.”

All the pleasantry left Victor with more unease. As they were led further into the manor, they came across more greenery and more birds in each room. Lady Cornelia had tea brought to all the men while they waited, chattering away in a perfectly friendly manner. Victor kept watch of her, to see if her gaze strayed to Yuuri too often, but she remained firmly engaged with whomever she was speaking. If they had been correct to assume she was secretly keeping sirens, he would have expected her to pay far more attention to Yuuri.

The explanation for the discrepancy came as Yakov and his men were set to leave. One of the soldiers thanked her while curiously examining the contents of the polished box he had been given to take. She quickly grabbed his chin, jerking his face up.

“Look at me when you speak, soldier!”

The waiting room they were all in went silent, even the birds kept in cages ceasing their fidgeting movements.

Her valet cleared his throat, his expression apologetic. “If you were unaware, Lady Cornelia is deaf. She can read lips, but only if you speak so she can see it. Please be considerate of her plight when you address her.”

And just like that, plans crumbled. Victor closed his eyes, biting his tongue to restrain a sigh of frustration. It made so much sense. A deaf siren keeper would have so much less to fear. Siren commands did not work if they were not heard. It also meant that Yuuri would not be able to order whatever secrets she kept out of her. The crestfallen look on Yuuri’s face was hardly an encouragement. It seemed that they would be relying on their charms and wits after all.

Immediately after her outburst, Lady Cornelia resumed her motherly mannerisms, joking about how it was a pity that someone who loved birds as much as she did would never be able to indulge in the supposed beauty of their songs.

The men who were to continue to accompany Victor and Yuuri were shown to the guest quarters, Lady Cornelia insisting that they partake in the comforts of her home rather than be subject to the lesser rooms reserved for servants. Victor expected her to attempt to separate him from Yuuri, but her valet escorted them to a shared room, the size of it rivalling their space in the palace. They were informed that dinner would take time to prepare and that they were welcome to relax in their quarters, to make use of the adjoining study, or to explore the grounds of the manor. Lady Cornelia herself told Yuuri he was free to stretch his wings in the courtyard, winking at him before she left them be.

As soon as they were alone, Victor felt like sinking to the floor in defeat. Yuuri, meanwhile, opened every cabinet door and dresser drawer, milling around the room with fraught intent. “I don’t think you’re going to find a siren being kept in a wardrobe, lovebird.”

“I don’t like her,” Yuuri stated flatly, opening one of the windows near the bedside and chirping loudly out of it. He received no response.

“Liking her isn’t the reason we’re here.” Her condition posed a challenge, but Victor and Yuuri had overcome many without requiring the influence of siren magic. They were exactly where they needed to be, and they were going to be entrusted to the noblewoman with minimal supervision. Lady Cornelia was fighting nature in attempting to grow tropical trees in a land of snow, and her fondness for caging birds was obvious. If she had a siren hidden away, they would find them here. They simply needed time to search.

“Come with me, lovebird,” Victor called, holding open the door into the hall. “I want to speak to Yakov before he leaves and I won’t have you alone while we’re here.”

Nodding, Yuuri shut the window and, as he did, Victor felt something strike him.

A hand gripped his left shoulder, holding him in place. Victor had had a blade slice through his flesh enough times to recognize the dull ice-like ache that shot through his side. A knife twisted into his back, the tip being driven in deep as a soldier’s voice muttered, “Long live the Queen.”

Yuuri screeched, flying forward to catch Victor as blood seeped through his coat, but Michele and his blade were already gone, leaving a trail of red droplets in his wake.


	11. The Flock

The first time that Guang Hong saw a siren would be burned into his mind for eternity. Yuuri’s shadow had encircled the ship, sending fear and foreboding prickling up the back of Guang Hong’s neck before Yuuri had even landed. The gift of bloody harpy wing that had landed practically in Minami’s lap was a haunting memory. As were Yuuri’s talons, dripping with red and threatening to leave score marks in the chest of anyone who questioned him.

Guang Hong had been so convinced that Yuuri was on the ship to do harm, that he was controlling the crew for his own benefit and that, before long, Guang Hong would fall prey to his magic as well. In his books, the creatures that came from the seas were always an enemy to be defeated. Yuuri had been beyond intimidating, but Guang Hong had been a fool to think he wanted anything different from anyone else. The desire for a good home, good company, good love, and a good amount of gold to spend was universal. Guang Hong wanted the same. All Yuuri had done was gone against the grain, choosing to make his home on a ship rather than a cliffside.

It was that decision, however, that had set everything in motion. And ultimately, it was the reason that Guang Hong would have another memory of sirens engraved into his mind. If a single siren nest on the ship had been terrifying, the thirty-plus nests clustered together at the edge of the forest were heart-stopping. Guang Hong imagined that if any human came upon them by accident, they would not live long enough to process the sight before them.

Getting from the ship to the siren nests had not been a simple ordeal. The ship had been anchored far enough off the shore to be in no danger of being pushed onto the rocks littering the nearby shore. The jagged cliff-face stretched high into the sky, dusted with snow and frost-covered moss. The forest of evergreens that sprung from the first flat shelf seemed to go on endlessly, but Guang Hong knew that they were only a few hours by horse away from the capital. He had thought it was close—too close—at first, before realizing that positioning themselves near the capital that threatened their species was exactly the intention. The sirens were readying for war.

While the forest was blanketed in snow, that did not hold true for the area where the sirens nested. Instead, they had woven thick fabric high up in the trees, creating sloping tarps to keep the forest floor below clear of the frost. The ground had been layered with fallen pine needles, cushioning their steps and keeping the chill away. The nests themselves were spread out, hidden from direct view, and despite his curiosity, Guang Hong valued his life more than the chance to sneak a peek.

What was more, the siren camp was warm—not enough for Guang Hong to drop the blanket he had wrapped himself in, but enough to stop his shivers. He and the rest of the crew were used to the warmth of the tropics, which made the chill feel harsher. The sirens had circles of glowing coals positioned between the nests, as well as metal lanterns filled with burning oil. For a species that tended to live in solitude, their efficiency and organization was stunning.

The members of the crew had been divided into three groups, with Celestino, Mari, and Yuuko staying with one group each. It was clear that the sirens did not trust the humans, though Guang Hong doubted anyone among them would question why. His heart did pound when they were approached by a female siren wrapped in a cloak of rabbit fur and stilled from the second that she spoke.

Even when prepared, there was no shaking the influence of a siren’s voice. The honeyed words rolled through Guang Hong, sparking through his veins. _You will not harm a siren. You will not lie to a siren. You shall confess any ill will you bear toward a siren._ Minami instantly started blabbering about how unfair he found it that Mari would sit with Guang Hong during breakfast but not with him. The following moment passed in silence, Mari scowling at their side until the other siren let out a short laugh, breaking the tension. They were not welcomed into the flock of siren nests, but they were permitted in.

At the center of the siren camp, a deer roasted over an open fire. It took Guang Hong a moment to realize why he found that so odd—he had yet to see any sirens from the Katsuki clan willingly eat cooked meat. Yuuko, however, had been more partial to it. So perhaps not all sirens preferred their meat raw. He learned something new every day.

Once each of the crew had been cleared, the female siren introduced herself as Ketty and the male siren who accompanied her as Matthieu. Mila began the introductions on their end, dipping her head in imitation of a siren bow and prompting the rest of the crew to follow. Although it was not returned, the gesture was received with a low churr of approval.

Holding a discussion with a group of sirens was not as challenging as Guang Hong would have predicted. Then again, he said nothing himself, sitting back quietly and observing. Mila, Chris, and the captain of the navy ship that had met them led the exchange. Guang Hong was not sure if he trusted him, but Georgi had apparently been part of Victor’s crew long before Guang Hong had come along. His ship had not made it, sunk by Yuuko and Mari after a foolish sailor aboard had tried to fire his pistol at them. The captain had been the only one they had spared from the wreck.

The information that Georgi did offer was invaluable. He had claimed, upon rejoining the crew, that he had gone back to the navy for love. Guang Hong thought it was metaphorical, until a laughing Chris had told him that it was quite literal and that Georgi had always been vexed in his affections for one particular woman. The love, however, had not been returned. So, like any good pirate, Georgi had stayed in service, collecting knowledge and leading ships astray on false advice when they sought to pursue Victor.

There were three things to be learned from Georgi’s report. The first was that it was merchants, not privateers and not navy men, who had been commissioned to hunt down sirens. That meant the orders were not coming from the palace, but from outside it. That matched with Celestino’s capture and Guang Hong’s invocation of Lady Cornelia’s name—not that it mattered greatly to the sirens who were at risk of being caught.

The second reveal was that Lilia intended to name Victor as her heir to the kingdom. That had prompted bitter laughter from Yuri and caused a clamor amongst the crew and sirens. It should have been good news.

“Victor is Yuuri’s mate, is he not?” Ketty pressed, her tone taking on a lilt of positivity. “That would mean the new ruler would have a siren at his side. Then this can stop. He can order the ships to stop hunting us.”

“He himself is evidence that humans do not obey their leaders,” Matthieu muttered in protest. While Ketty kept herself wrapped in furs, his dark grey wings were tucked around him, the feathers tipped in a soft blue.

“Victor won’t be king,” Chris said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t want it. He’s a pirate, not a royal.”

“He would, if it meant helping stop what’s been happening,” Mila cut in. “We all know his strength as a leader and, with Yuuri, they could—”

“Then let him rule,” Ketty stated. “I know Yuuri; he will have chosen a good mate. If Mari and Yuuko say to trust him, I will put my faith in him. The idea of forming a truce with humans is… Well, it will take time for us to adjust. But if the alternative is living like this, in fear for the lives of our peeplings and our families, then we will make those adjustments.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

The third piece of information that Georgi provided came as no surprise. While the Queen intended to have Victor take her place, there were plots within her military to oust the new king as soon as he accepted his crown. The only reason they had yet to be realized, it seemed, was the conflict over who would take the throne in his place. Any decision they did come to would likely pose an even greater danger to the sirens. A military leader who opposed the pirate king and his siren lover would likely bear no hesitation toward the push for hunting down the entire siren species.

That left them in limbo once again. Silence overtook the camp as they all mulled over their options. If no actions were taken, humans would continue to hunt sirens. In retaliation to the threat, sirens had been readying to take on the capital, with the intention that a desolation would put fear of their species back into the hearts of humans. Yet, they knew the risk of such an assault. They were few in comparison and if a true war did break out, the sheer number of humans would more than threaten the sirens’ chance of survival. If humans were deaf to commands and had silk nets and guns at their disposal, they could tilt the advantage to their side.

What they needed was a proxy.

Guang Hong cleared his throat, though he did shrink when every gaze turned in his direction. “S-sorry, I was… Well, I think we already have a potential solution in Georgi here.”

Georgi blinked at him.

“I mean, like what he did. He was able to go back to the navy because no one had become aware that he had sailed under Victor. They thought he was loyal to Anya, right?” Georgi choked back a small sob at the mention of the name. “So what we need is the same thing. Someone the Queen’s military thinks is on their side, whom they can support as a leader against Victor. If there’s someone who can ‘defeat’ Victor and take the throne, they can use the support and trust they’ve gained to ensure that the conflict with sirens is put to rest. There will be a new ruler who will have the backing of the military, and thus stability, but they’ll also be someone sirens and us pirates can trust to keep peace.”

Mila laughed. “You want Georgi to be king?! He’s not of noble blood. The court would have their work cut out approving him.”

“If he leads a revolution against Victor and can appear to make peace with sirens, though...” Emil muttered, nodding in careful consideration. “Victor was deemed into nobility by the Queen, he wasn’t born into it. They made an exception for him at her request, so they may be more open to it than we think. I doubt they’re happy about their exception turning pirate. They’d want to cover up that memory with a successful alternative.”

“Pardon, but how can we put our faith in this slattern who flips loyalties for short-lived claims of love?” Matthieu interrupted, shooting red-eyed glares at Georgi.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve only ever loved one woman!” Georgi defended himself, placing a hand over his heart. “And the love sirens have for their mates is inspiring enough for me to wish such love is never divided! However, I do admit that if I were to find a new soul worthy of affections, I fear my rationality might turn toward the foolish. I would be happy to support such a plot, but I am not fit to be a king.”

“Then who?” Ketty questioned.

“Mila is from a noble family,” Chris suggested.

Mila’s response was curt laughter. “And the Queen’s navy will be more opposed to me than to Victor. Everyone left on our crew is wanted for piracy and is a known associate of Victor’s. We have to find someone else. Victor has many enemies, but he has just as many admirers. There may be someone he used to serve with who is still with the navy, or a member of the court who would be up for a secret rebellion. It’s possible Victor and Yuuri have a better idea than us as well, but we won’t know until we get to them.”

“I still think our best option is to go into the capital and make them stop,” Matthieu said, casting a glance around the siren camp. Guang Hong followed his gaze and saw that several more sirens had emerged from the coverings surrounding their nests, all listening intently to the accord they were attempting to reach. “Issue commands one by one, if we must. No one here wants to fight if it means more eggs left without parents, but we cannot keep waiting while there are ships continuing to treat us like prey.”

“Why not both?” Chris proposed with a shrug of his shoulders. “We need our captain, but we won’t be able to make it through the capital on our own. Help us get him and Yuuri out of there. It will need to be quiet, at least at the start. But it will give you a chance to take back some control. Our goals are the same as yours, to put things back to how they were before. As much as possible, that is. I’m a humble pirate. I want to sail freely, to plunder some ships, and spend my earnings on a pretty face. We’ve avoided siren nests for years and will be more than happy to do the same going forward. And I guarantee you that most of those living in the capital want no part of a siren hunt. A whisper in their ear encouraging them to… let’s say, offer no support to any plots aiming to do so—that will go a long way without arousing suspicion.”

“You’re encouraging us to command humans?”

“We’ve permitted you to command us, haven’t we?” Mila said, gesturing to her crew. “And no one here has confessed any ill will toward you, yes? We’re here putting our faith in you. I don’t think it is too much to receive a fraction of it back in return.”

There was quiet, and then mutters exchanged between Ketty and Matthieu. After a minute, the female siren nodded and rose to her feet. “Let us talk with the rest of our flock. If Yuuri is in need of rescuing and it means a safer resolution, I am willing to help.”

“How do you know him?” Minami piped up, having reached the limit of holding himself back. Guang Hong had seen him practically vibrating the entire time, far more pleased at being at the center of a siren camp than anyone had a right to be.

Ketty smiled. “I tried to court him once. Clearly, though, he was meant for a different mate.”

Minami’s eyes grew wide, but he bit the insides of his cheeks, visibly containing a slew of further questions.

The crew was permitted to remain within the camp, though they were advised to not let their curiosity get the better of them. Guang Hong felt that advice was mainly aimed at Minami, but he would take care to heed it all the same. The more he looked around, the more he saw that conflicted with his image of sirens. Admittedly, his knowledge was limited, consisting of the little he knew about Yuuri and the others who had come aboard the ship, and all that Minami had rattled off when in a sharing mood. Ketty and Matthieu appeared to be single sirens, like Mari, but he glimpsed families emerging from nests and saw a few feathered children run by, stealing mystified looks at the group of humans.

He came upon one of the pits of glowing embers, encircled by stones to contain the heat. Minami had been standing in front of it, staring down with swimming eyes. At the edge of the embers were two large eggs, one of a bright robin blue and the other of a softer hue, speckled with black dots.

“He said, ‘more eggs left without parents,’” Minami muttered, twisting around and finding the nearest siren. “Are they—were they left behind? Are theirs missing?”

The answer he received was a nod and a gesture encouraging them to move away. They quickly obeyed.

It was unnerving to see Minami wearing such a broken expression, his previously chipper countenance erased entirely. “It’s not supposed to be like this,” Minami whispered, his voice cracking despite his hush. “I did this. I caused this… I feel sick.”

Guang Hong reached out to pat his shoulder, but Minami sprinted away before he could, tears streaking down his cheeks. This was not the kind of adventure Guang Hong had sought on his quest to be a pirate. The idea of a potential war was more than terrifying. Sirens were being hunted, he was being hunted, and the rest of the humans likely feared the same for themselves. They did need a resolution, and soon. Yet, despite casting himself in the role of the hero in his mental narrative, Guang Hong could offer nothing that would help.

When evening fell, Guang Hong and the rest of the crew were treated to a meal of roast deer and a rich soup flavored with pine nuts. He could not help but notice that the sirens who dined near them ate portions of another deer—raw. The roasted one had been prepared entirely for the crew, ahead of their arrival. Despite their caution, the sirens had been ready to welcome them in after all.

Over the course of the meal, more sirens came out, exchanging tentative bows with the crew. Ketty and Matthieu rejoined them, and a plan was set in place. Several of the sirens who had yet to form families would accompany the crew, helping them make their way through the capital. In return, their crew would keep the sirens hidden and let them sow their seeds of dissent, whispering commands to help protect them from future hunts. There was danger on both sides, but together they might just manage. The goal was the palace itself, a rescue of the besotted mates reportedly trapped within.

“We need to figure out a way into the palace,” Mila said. “We can go in fighting, but it’ll be messy and we’ll be risking lives. We need something cleaner.”

“What if we turn ourselves in?” Guang Hong suggested from the outside of the discussion circle. “Georgi can say he captured a few pirates.”

Georgi turned to look in his direction and then grinned. “You’re the missing boy from the Ji family, aren’t you?”

Smiling weakly in response, Guang Hong nodded. “Guilty.”

“Then you’re all we need.”

Eyebrows went up, expressions morphing into curiosity all around. “Your family issued a formal request to the Queen for your return,” Georgi explained. “You’re the only invitation we would need to be granted an audience, as we would be safely delivering the young Master Ji.”

That came as no surprise. Guang Hong expected that sooner or later, someone would attempt to bring him home. An adventure was well and good, but if he could help them avoid the devastation of a siren-human war, a short detour home would not be the worst thing in the world. He could see Leo. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“And what are we to do after we’ve saved the siren and his mate?” Matthieu questioned.

“We find the other missing sirens. We get Victor’s replacement in place. And we end this,” Mila stated firmly. “It’ll be like victory from both sides.”

The sky above the tree line had darkened and while the crew had been welcome within the camp until that point, they were not welcome to spend the night. The decision was made to set off immediately, so the crew started the careful trek down the cliff to the water where they had left their dinghies moored.

Chris offered to have disguises prepared for the sirens that would be joining them, but his kindess was laughed off and he was assured that, for many of them, it would not be their first time passing off as humans. Those who had their nests near ports said they would sometimes wander in, either out of a passing curiosity or to trade game for coins that would then be traded for rare fruits or a new addition to their nest. Always careful and always quiet.

Guang Hong tried to search his memory for any time he had met anyone in his city that had been unnaturally beautiful and impossible to resist. Perhaps he had met a siren before Yuuri after all.

The ship with one siren aboard it had been a spectacle, the rarest of oddities that few people had lived to tell tales about. The ship with three sirens aboard had felt crowded, especially since, unlike Yuuri, they had all kept their wings out whenever possible. The ship with ten sirens aboard was utter madness.

Just as Guang Hong had curiously gazed about their camp, the sirens wanted to explore the ship. Mila cleared her quartermaster’s room for them and ordered that space be made in the crew quarters to accommodate their winged companions. The night was tense and required adjustment, but morning came to wind filling their sails and Yuuko calming the mood on deck with a song as Emil supported her with a tune played on a fiddle.

They made good time, traveling down the coast toward the capital. The harbor was not yet in sight when a deckhand keeping watch in the crow’s nest raised an alarm at a rapidly approaching figure. There was a scramble, with sirens readying to fight and pirates loading pistols. The fog that had clouded the surface of the water broke into the shape of wings and, within moments, another siren came barreling toward them.

Covered in a cloak and clad in human clothing, it was Yuuri who dropped onto the deck of the ship. He was out of breath and the white sleeves of his garment were discolored in the copper tone of dried blood. As both Mari and Yuuko shouted for all those on deck to clear the way, Guang Hong noted that Yuuri’s mate was not with him.


	12. Birdcage

“Where is he? Where is he?!”

Lady Cornelia’s cries carried down the hall. Victor had expected them to come sooner. He had been worried, having waited through the silence, fighting off the fear that Yuuri had not made it out. The knife in his back was nothing new. Michele had always been a mediocre sailor, with mediocre aim. After a few days to recover, Victor would survive with another scar added to the numerous already marking his skin. 

His only disappointment was that Michele had managed to escape, fleeing the estate on horseback. Several of Yakov’s men had given chase but none had returned. Victor wondered if it was because Michele had been more successful in disposing of them, or if they supported his cause. 

To give Lady Cornelia credit, she had acted quickly upon discovering that one of her guests was bleeding onto her floors. One of her servants had been ordered to bring tools to stitch the wound while Victor had been carefully guided toward the bed, the lady showing no concern for the blood staining her carpets and her sheets. Hot water and clean rags had been offered as Yuuri had ripped Victor’s clothing away from the wound, rinsing it and applying pressure to help curb the bleeding. 

As far as attempts on his life went, it would hardly be worth mentioning. The wound was sutured expertly by Lady Cornelia’s valet, Yuuri having stepped back to allow in someone with steadier hands. Michele had taken advantage of the distance from the palace and the lack of watchful guards. By the time Yakov had found Victor, he was resting, turned onto his other side in the bed. The commodore had been enraged, which was comforting, and announced his intention to remain on the estate, which was less so. Everything was fine, however, until well into the night. 

Well into the night, Victor and Yuuri had received a visit from the lady, who claimed she was simply checking on their well-being. She came with extra blankets for Yuuri, who had been seated by the bed, watching over his husband overnight. Those were welcomed. She had servants add wood to the fireplace at the far wall, restoring the fading warmth. That was welcomed as well. Finally, she had offered hot drinks to both Victor and Yuuri, stating that mixed into Victor’s was medicine that would dull the pain and help him rest. He had welcomed it then, taking a small and cautious sip before letting Yuuri take the cup to set it aside. It was not long after she left that he felt the effects in the form of lightheadedness and a weight in his limbs. At first he had thought it was due to the bloodloss, until they heard the heavy impact of a body falling on the floor outside the bedroom. Yakov, who had been sitting guard, had drained the same drink in good faith and paid the price for it. They had been drugged. 

Yuuri had not drunk a single drop, but Victor knew it would not matter. He had no faith in the military men Lilia had sent to protect them. Yakov was incapacitated and Victor would not be able to put up a proper fight in his state. That would leave Yuuri on his own, and in danger. He could not stay. They could not risk Yuuri becoming another bird trapped in one of Lady Cornelia’s cages. He had to fly for help. 

Lady Cornelia burst through the double doors of the guest room, her expression enraged. The scowl on her face and fire in her face snapped into false concern as soon as she realized that Victor had not succumbed to the laced drink. “Your highness! Your s—your husband, he is missing!”

“I am aware,” Victor replied, his voice hoarse in his own ears. “He’s flown to the palace. The Queen might be in danger. He went to warn her,” he lied, grateful that the drugs did not leave him incapable of it. 

“But—he can’t—” she stumbled through her words as her expression soured. Victor knew that struggle well, as it was one which had become common for himself of late. She was attempting to work through an upset plan. “He will be on his own. Should we not send someone after him?”

Victor had sent Yuuri off because he was confident that he himself would face no harm at the hands of Lady Cornelia as long as Yuuri was out of her grasp. If she was collecting sirens, she was doing so quietly and smartly. She was not going to risk her status and her treasures unless her goal was certain. With Yuuri gone, they would both be safe. “He’s stronger than he looks. He can defend himself. But if it helps settle your concerns, I will not oppose.”

“Yes. Yes, of course, your highness,” she replied, bowing her head. “Please, get some rest.”

Muttering unintelligibly in response, Victor’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back onto the pillow. Yuuri had gotten out, that was what mattered. It had not been easy to convince Yuuri to leave him and flee, but Victor was forever grateful that his mate listened to reason. It had become clear to them both that the problems they faced were not ones they could overcome on their own. They needed their crew, needed the support of the other sirens. It was possible that Michele driving the knife into Victor’s back could become their turning point. An assassination attempt would be an undeniable signal to those who opposed Lilia’s chosen heir. They would perceive him as vulnerable as he recovered. Victor simply needed to use it to his advantage. 

Just outside the door, Victor continued to hear voices. Lady Cornelia had ordered her valet to send someone out to the palace and to have others keep watch in case Victor’s mate returned. There were more whispers, hard to make out while simultaneously fighting his body’s demand for sleep. There was talk of the navy man who had put a kink in both their plots, there were instructions to get the poor exhausted Commodore to a room of his own, and then there was—

“I will check on the other birds myself!” That one line snapped clean and sharp, tinted with irritation. 

Victor forced his eyes open. He doubted any bird in a cage needed checking amidst such a dire situation. Not unless they were highly prized birds, with one of their brethren suddenly unaccounted for. 

Gritting his teeth, Victor rolled onto his good side and carefully pushed himself up. If Lady Cornelia was going to check on her “birds,” Victor would not be able to find a better opportunity to see where she kept them. If they were actual birds and nothing more and he was caught, he could offer plenty of excuses. If they were sirens and he was caught… well, he had fought in worse conditions. 

Yuuri had torn his shirt off, but Victor still had his jacket nearby, even if it did bear a hole caused by a blade. He slipped it on and went to the doors, keeping his steps as light as he could. He left his boots behind, though he did grab the blade he kept inside them. Lady Cornelia’s deafness would allow him to follow her without great concern for noise, but the servants she kept did not have the same affliction. 

Luck was on his side. The hallway was empty, the valet having hurried off to follow orders. Victor caught sight of the tail of the lady’s dress skirts turning a corner and gave chase as quickly as the brand new stitching on his lower back would permit. Michele had not grazed bone or organ, nor did it seem that he had the foresight to poison his blade. As long as Victor did not twist at the waist, he could keep the sutures together and the pain at a tolerable level. 

Lady Cornelia traversed her manor at a quick pace, going from the second floor guest quarters to the back halls behind her first floor parlor room to the glass aviary on the grounds outside. For a fleeting moment, Victor thought she had meant actual birds. There were plenty resting in nests, with their beaks tucked into a wing. However, Lady Cornelia did not pause to check on any of the birds there, continuing on. At the very back of the aviary grew more out-of-place tropical trees, wrapped for warmth and sporting thick curtains of ivy between them. She disappeared behind them. 

Victor waited. He hid and he waited, since going in blind while injured would be a fully-fledged wish for the worst to happen. If he followed her in and found himself face-to-face with her, his charms and his wit and his reaction time might not be enough to save him. A cornered beast, even a cunning one, would lash out to protect its secrets. 

The glass of the aviary acted as a greenhouse but Victor’s feet still grew cold as he waited. His back ached, his body swayed, his focus faltered. He had not drank enough of the tea to fall prey, but the half mouthful he had taken was still impairing him. If it were not for the blood loss, he may have fared better. 

Victor counted half an hour before Lady Cornelia emerged, her face set in stone. She shuffled off without a second glance, departing from the aviary. The moment he was alone, Victor made his move. Behind the tropical trees that bore no fruit and the heavy green curtains of ivy, the aviary came to a halt. Victor was face-to-face with a glass wall. However, at his feet were descending stone steps leading into darkness. Victor was not aware of any species of bird that slept underground, though he was sure that was a question Minami could answer for him. 

The bottom of the stone staircase came to a locked door. Victor’s hair might have been cut short, however, the habit of keeping hairpins in his pockets persisted. Mainly, for lock-picking purposes. Accepting the role of prince had not stopped Victor from being a pirate. It took him more time than it should have, but the bolts on the door clicked into place with compliance. 

Inside was a vault—a vault with high ceilings, multitudes of oil lamps, and the stench of despair. The cold floor was lined with golden bird cages, huge and arching, the size of them enough to contain several humans comfortably. Victor counted twenty at a glance, amid relief that most were empty. Most, not all. The cage nearest housed a single siren, and not a healthy one. He was bruised and bleeding, broken. 

Forgetting his own injury, Victor rushed forward and dropped to his knees, calling out to the siren curled into themselves at the bottom of the golden cage. “If you can hear me, I am here to help. My ears are not muted, you can command me, but know I only want to help.”

The siren’s feathers were black and white, the iridescence within them dulled to matte. Victor did not recognize their colors and yet he knew exactly who the siren was when they shifted, weakly turning their face to gaze up at him. As if he would ever forget the face of the macaw that had nearly commanded him to drown himself. Hiroko had mentioned his name; it was there, buried somewhere in Victor's memories. “Seung… Seung-gil!”

Red flashed in the siren’s eyes, his cracked lips twisting into a foul grimace. “You!” Seung-gil rasped in recognition, “I know you!”

“Yes, you know me,” Victor confirmed, plunging his hands into his pockets to find another hairpin he could use to unlock the cage. “I am here to get you out. If you so wish, you can command me—”

Seung-gil did not hesitate, spitting out a weak command before Victor had a chance to prepare himself. “Die, human!”

The words struck Victor surer than the blade that had pierced his side. Siren magic twisted in his gut, layered in sweet promise. Die, human. If he died there, the spreading pain in his back would stop. The weakness in his limbs would fade and the drugs fogging his thoughts would be rendered useless. He had the knife he had slipped into his belt. It would be easy. Die for the siren, as he was meant to. If he died for Seung-gil, the macaw could eat him, use him to build his strength. Victor would free him in that way, allow him to escape. Victor wanted Seung-gil to escape. 

With trembling fingers, Victor pulled the blade from his belt, letting himself drown in the command reverberating through his ears. Sirens all had such beautiful voices. Like Yuuri’s. Yuuri had the most beautiful voice of them all. Before he had flown off, he had pressed his lips firmly to Victor’s, commanding him to stay safe. As he always did, Victor had promised. It did not matter if Yuuri’s magic no longer worked on him, worn away by time and by love. Victor had promised the same to Yuuko, after they had saved her baby bird. He had told her that he would keep Yuuri safe, keep them all safe. 

Victor had already had so many siren commands pressed upon him. There was Mari’s first, binding him to never hurt a siren. There had been all of Yuuko’s, bidding him into honesty. He had lost count of the questions Yuuri’s parents had compelled him to answer when they had met, and all the careless commands the drunken siren family had dropped at the wedding. Victor’s head was filled with siren voices, with their demands, with their ethereal promises that the world would be his if he only did their bidding. 

“Die, I said die!” Seung-gil’s desperate command cut through the haze. “Why won’t… why don’t any of you filthy slatterns listen?!”

“I’m not a slattern.” The words felt like ash in his mouth, coarse and dry. They did not belong, just like the magic whispering for him to plunge the knife into his heart did not belong. His heart was already marked, claimed by his affection for his one and only lovebird. Yuuri had left him there knowing that Victor would be able to protect himself. If he listened to the commands of another siren and betrayed his mate by dying there, Yuuri would burn the world. Then no one would be safe. 

Shouting as magic sparked through his blood and made it feel like it was boiling, Victor released the knife in his hand, letting it clatter across the cold stone floor. He grabbed his head, cradling it. Resisting Yuuri had come gradually, an immunity to his voice built up without realization. Manipulating Mari’s commands had been simple, as Victor had obeyed them, playing them so that her wishes were still met but on his conditions. There were so many siren voices in his head, so many layers of magic fighting to prevail. Die, stay safe, do no harm, tell no lies, save me, dance. Each one was like a beckoning hymn, like ropes tugging him in every which direction. None of them, he wanted none of them. He was done with listening to commands that did not come from his mate. 

“You—”

“I’m not a slattern and I’m not dying,” Victor pushed the words out through a clenched jaw. “You’ve tried to kill me twice now, so it’s your turn to listen. I am here, and I am hurt, and I am getting you out of here before that woman comes back. Do you understand me?”

The red in Seung-gil’s eyes shimmered, then faded. Groaning, the siren pushed himself up onto his elbows, glaring toward the cage door. “Get me out then.”

Victor grabbed onto the steel bars of the cage, using them as leverage to pull himself onto unsteady feet. Pain seared through his side. He forced himself through it, leaning his weight on the cage as his hands fumbled with the lock. The first hairpin dropped from his fingers, causing him to swear and bite a second into shape. Seung-gil’s magic was still burning through him, draining him as his resistance wore it out. He managed to keep his hands steady long enough to hear the internal pins of the lock click into place, wrenching the door open. 

“Come on,” Victor said, holding a hand out in offer to Seung-gil. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

Seung-gil did not accept the help, pushing himself up with his own feeble strength. “I am not the only one here. There’s another.” 

The cages surrounding Seung-gil were empty, but as Victor looked further back, he saw the crumpled form of another siren. They had been kept separated. Victor left Seung-gil, tearing across the vault and tearing through the locked cage. The siren remained on the floor, unmoving. Her, Victor truly did not recognize. She had the wings of a hawk, colored in mixed browns. Unlike Seung-gil, her skin was free of battered marks. Victor lifted her hand, feeling for a pulse. It was faint but present. 

“Pardon me, miss,” Victor muttered, slipping his arms under her and lifting her up. He had always considered a siren’s lightness a blessing, permitting him to carry her with relative ease despite his own state. He needed to steady his weight and keep the pressure off his side, but he would be able to get them out. He did not falter as he returned to Seung-gil, who stood unsteadily outside his cage. “Can you walk?”

“I shall manage, human.”

“My name is Victor. I wish we could have met again under better circumstances,” Victor said, adjusting his grip on the unconscious siren in his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was drop her. He would let himself fall before then. 

The stone staircase posed more of a challenge ascending than they had on the way down. Victor took care with his steps, keeping the siren’s head cradled against his chest. Seung-gil used the wall to support himself, staying on Victor’s heels. Together, they emerged from the vault of cages into the aviary. There, they had a choice to make. Going through Lady Cornelia’s manor would mean a fight. Attempting an escape through the aviary would risk freezing in the snow outside. “Can you fly?”

Seung-gil unfurled one of his wings, displaying his feathers. The primaries, which were meant to be long and full, were short and blunt. “She clipped us.”

The stir of rage was instant, flushing the exhaustion and pain from Victor’s body. The fear of sirens that humans bore was understandable. Sirens hunted humans, sank their ships, hoarded their treasure, and stole their lives. But siren nests had been avoidable. Sailors made maps of coastlines where ships went missing, spread tales in taverns, warned each other of where the shadows of wings too large to belong to birds graced the clouds. A good captain would not risk his ship and his crew on waters said to be those of a siren’s. What Lady Cornelia was doing now, it was not out of fear. It was out of cruelty. “Let’s see if we can’t clip her in return…”

The aviary felt wider on the return. In the dark, the trees towered grimly over them and any movement in the branches resulted in an echo from all sides. Victor doubted he could fight through all of Lady Cornelia’s household on his own, not with a siren in his arms and without a sword on his flank. Behind him, Seung-gil was struggling to remain upright, his footfalls heavy and his breathing ragged. Mari had said he had been missing from his nest since the summer. That would mean he had spent half a year imprisoned, a clipped siren in a cage. Victor was not sure if he wanted to know Lady Cornelia’s true intentions for the sirens she had captured.

“Where is your mate?”

Victor smiled at the question, glancing back at Seung-gil to make sure he was not falling behind. “Bringing in a whole lot of help, I hope.” It would make for a beautiful view to watch a flock of sirens tearing the estate to shreds. Let it stand in rubble as a testament to anyone who believed sirens could be tamed into pets. 

“I’m afraid that will be of no service to you.”

The interrupting voice had Victor twisting to face the aviary’s exit, now blocked by Lady Cornelia’s valet. He held a pistol in his hand, pointed squarely at Victor.

“You’ve stained the good Lady’s floors, your highness.” By the valet’s polished shoes, a droplet of dried blood marked the ground. More followed, continuing through the aviary. Victor’s stitches had split, leaving a trail when he had chased after Lady Cornelia. 

“I would beg her pardon,” Victor stated, his tone bitter, “if I were not preoccupied by the captives she’s been keeping.”

“That is none of your concern.”

“And her panic at finding my husband gone should be none of my concern either? Nor the drugs in my drink? I will take up my issues with her presently,” Victor retorted, widening his stance. He was prepared to fight, though he doubted it would be necessary. He did have a siren by his side. “Seung-gil, do you have any parting words for our host?”

A hand grasped onto Victor’s shoulder, Seung-gil steadying himself against his back. His command came as a growl, “Perish!”

The power of the spite in Seung-gil’s order hit without pause. The pistol in the valet’s hand fired and its owner crumpled, a bullet lodged into his temple. Blood spilled, seeping over the dried droplets left from Victor’s wound. 

“He listened...” Seung-gil muttered. If he was surprised, it was not betrayed by his flat tone. “Why did you not listen?”

“If I had listened, you would still be in that cage,” Victor answered, stepping around the body in front of them. “He won’t be the only one coming for us. And the Lady won’t listen.” 

His words were all too true. A scream vibrated through the aviary, shaking the birds from the trees. Lady Cornelia herself filled the doorway into the manor, her face drained of color. Rather than the death of her valet, her attention was trained on the sirens in Victor’s arms and at his back. “Y-your highness!”

“Good morning, milady,” Victor greeted. “I’ve found some guests of yours who appeared to be in distress.” 

“How dare you? How dare you?!” she shrieked, starting forward. “You’ve got a siren of your own. You leave me mine! Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to collect my birds?! What use are they to you?!” 

That was all Victor needed to hear, and the same held true for the siren behind him. Seung-gil lunged forward, claws of black and white flashing forth. They remained that color for but a moment, overtaken by red. Seung-gil had shown no mercy nor hesitation, as was deserved. Lady Cornelia’s final words were muted, her vocal cords torn out along with her throat. She joined her valet on the aviary floor. 

Seung-gil discarded his handful of flesh, wiping the blood on his robes, his expression disgusted. “Finally. I despised that voice.” 

“If you wished to dine, I would not stop you.”

The siren shook his head in dismissal. “I would not give her the pleasure. Leave them. She keeps vultures in here; let them feast.”

Victor deemed it a fair sentence. 

The rest of the manor fell quickly. The servants who had come running at the sound of their master’s screams were not prepared to encounter a siren. Seung-gil commanded them all to their ends, sparing no one. The military men who had remained in the manor, tasked with Victor’s protection, covered their ears and fled. The halls emptied and went quiet, the only enduring sounds being those of the birds still caged in the corners of each room. 

Victor’s legs gave out and he sank to the hardwood floor at the center of the entrance hall. Outside was dark, but dawn was approaching. There was no threat inside the manor anymore; they could rest and regain their strength. The siren in Victor’s arms was barely breathing. Moving her any further would endanger her well-being. Seung-gil was barely keeping himself up, and Victor would be risking another blood infection if he did not clean his wound. The doors that led out were at their fingertips. They could wait till morning. 

Slumping back, Victor permitted himself to exhale a single breath of relief. 

Morning would come. And with it would come the beating of a multitude of siren wings.


	13. A Siren's Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes.

Dawn broke to a storm of sirens swarming Lady Cornelia’s estate. Victor heard their wings before he saw the shadows flash past windows. He had dragged himself up with the first light, carrying the unconscious female siren to the nearest bed before raiding the kitchens. He brought back raw meat for Seung-gil, resisting the urge to snap at the colorless macaw when he eyed it with suspicion. It was not his fault. Victor would be cautious, too. He would not want to go from being captured by one human to being poisoned by another.

Victor found Yakov, still knocked out by whatever drugs Lady Cornelia had slipped into his drink. There was no waking him and, with his wound still bleeding, Victor did not trust himself to bear the commodore’s weight. He pulled him into the bedroom and left him propped against the inner walls, shutting the doors behind him. Other than himself, Yakov was the only human who remained breathing. A flock of angry sirens might change that.

His limbs weighed like lead as Victor pushed through the halls, clinging to the staircase railing as he descended to keep himself from stumbling. He made it to the front doors just as they were torn off the hinges. Not the way he would have made his entrance, but Victor smiled at the sight of his husband nonetheless. Yuuri stood before him, his rage-red eyes wide with surprise and his feathers out in full form, standing on end like battle spikes. “Welcome back, lovebird,” Victor greeted. “I see you’ve brought help.”

Yuuri was flanked by both his childhood friend and his sister, with another siren Victor had yet to meet at his back. The forms of more circled overhead, their wingspan far too large to belong to any bird.

Victor was swept off his feet, Yuuri enveloping with his wings and releasing a soft, broken chirr filled with reunited affection. The pain in his back was splitting, but he permitted himself to sink into Yuuri’s arms. There was too much to say, so he started with the most dire first. “The lady of the house has been disposed of. As has her staff. That macaw is here, he’s in bad shape but he’s safe. And there’s one more.”

“Where are they?” Mari demanded, stepping past the doorway. Her feathers were up in bristling caution as well, her eyes darting around each corner of the entrance hall.

Victor gave directions, waving his hand toward the room Seung-gil and the other siren were resting in. Mari, Yuuko, and one male siren with wings like a brown owl’s went to their aid, leaving Victor in the care of his lovebird. He let his eyes fall shut, leaning into Yuuri’s warm and solid form. “Thank you for coming.”

“What did you do?” Yuuri asked, cradling Victor against him.

“I found where she was keeping them,” Victor muttered. The exhaustion from his injury and the restless night had drained the strength straight from his bones. “And I got them out.”

“Are you hurt?” Yuuri’s voice was soothing, cleansing Victor of the lingering influence Seung-gil’s magic had had on him. Like a lullaby, it could rock Victor to sleep within seconds if he did not fight it.

“The stitches broke,” Victor said, forcing himself to pull out of Yuuri’s supporting embrace. He had bled through the bandages tied around him, trickling blood having stained the inside of his coat. “A pair of tender hands and some rest, and I’ll be fine.”

The anger flooding Yuuri had settled, but Victor could easily read the doubt and concern splashed across his face. Yuuri’s fingers were gentle as they pushed aside the folds of Victor’s coat, as was his churring whimper when he saw the evidence of the reopened wound. Victor, however, knew he would make it through just fine.

The estate felt far less like a prison when filled with the chirping of working sirens. Yuuri carried him to a bed and redressed his wound, fixing the stitches that had snapped and split the skin. Yuuko tended to the unconscious female siren, with the dark-winged male fretting by her side. Victor learned his name and that Guang Hong had saved Celestino from a merchant ship. The siren lying with barely a pulse and weak breath, whose hand he refused to let go, was his mate. They had been separated for far too long.

With the presence of others around him, Seung-gil settled and permitted Mari to work on his injuries while he ate to regain his strength. As he did, he relayed his capture and what had transpired after. Most of the story was neither shocking nor new, but the same that they had all experienced. He had been hunting but the ship in his sights had not responded to his song. He had flown closer, singing them in, only to get in range of their guns. They had shot him through the wing and caught him in silk nets when he fell. Everyone on board had their ears plugged with wax, muting his voice long enough to get him gagged and bound and thrown into a cell. After a month at sea with barely enough food and water to survive, he had been delivered to Lady Cornelia.

At first, the Lady had been sickeningly kind, despite keeping him locked in a birdcage. She had made sure he had plush bedding and plenty of food, with the underground kept well-lit and warm enough for the comfort of a tropical siren. Seung-gil had waited and bided his time, calculating his best opportunity for escape, all while she tried to “tame” him and convince him to sing. He had not seen what the point was, since she was not able to hear him regardless.

Her patience grew thin as he continued to refuse to listen to her requests, then ended altogether at the arrival of a second siren. Celestino’s mate had not been as cautious with her captors as Seung-gil had been. She had been brought down to the cages bound in silk and struggling, carried by four of Lady Cornelia’s servants. Seung-gil had watched as she tried to kick free and spit out her gag, twisting out of their arms and dropping hard onto the floor. It bought her just enough time to shrug off the gag and screech out a profane command of death.

One of Lady Cornelia’s men had not had his ears covered well enough. Within a moment, he had grabbed a knife off another and plunged it into his own chest, the tip piercing straight through his heart. The rest of the men had hurriedly dragged the siren into a cage, while their companion bled out onto the floor. The body was carried out and the sirens were left locked inside, confined without food or drink for nearly a week. It was difficult to keep track of the days without the coming and going of the sun, but Seung-gil counted the hours until he was too hoarse to call out to his fellow siren and too weak to do more than curl into himself, conserving his body heat by wrapping himself in his wings.

He had awoken to water being tipped into his mouth, coughing as liquid trailed down toward his lungs. There was meat on a plate before him and he grabbed for it, though his weak chirps would go unanswered. They would remain unanswered, as Lady Cornelia had permanently silenced the siren that had dared kill one of her men. Celestino’s mate had been stripped of her tongue. A “pet” siren couldn’t be sold off to the highest bidder if it was commanding death.

From then on, they had been kept on the edge, barely surviving on the scraps they were given. Too weak to fight, too parched to shout. Their wings were clipped and their fates all but decided. If they were to have any hope at seeing the sun again, they were expected to turn obedient. Celestino’s mate had not complied.

The picture of what humans were doing to sirens grew grimmer and grimmer. They knew there were more ships hunting sirens. If they had not met with the one that had captured Celestino, he might have reunited with his mate sooner but under less hopeful circumstances. They were together now, though, and would never permit that to change.

The estate would not remain a safe haven for long, but it would suit their needs for a day or two of recovery. Neither Seung-gil nor Celestino could fly on their own, and Celestino’s mate would need to be transported with extreme care. They did not have a lot of time, but they would take all that they could. Yakov was under watch, and Victor had requested that no harm come to him, though he did permit commands to be given if the commodore proved difficult upon awakening.

Victor finally permitted himself to drift off to sleep once the discussion between the sirens turned to hushed murmurs, smiling when he heard Yuuri’s voice addressing Seung-gil. His lovebird was apologizing for the encounter that had transpired between them long before. The last thing Victor remembered hearing was a firm dismissal and the assertion that Yuuri had been right to protect his mate, and a flat gratitude for the rescue despite their history. Perhaps, their plans were finally looking up.

* * *

The delicate brushing of fingers through his hair stirred Victor from uneasy dreams. The sun was high and bright outside the windows. He had been asleep for several hours. He turned his head and his cheek hit Yuuri’s thigh. His husband was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching over him. The first thing Victor noticed was that Yuuri was back in siren robes. They were not his own, deep navy in color rather than his preferred black, but the cut and the silken feel of the fabric was familiar. “You brought a whole flock to me, lovebird.”

“And you didn’t even need it,” Yuuri replied, leaning down to press his lips to Victor’s forehead. He churred happily as he pulled up. “You’re not hot, that’s good. Emil wanted to look at your wound, once you felt up to it.”

Victor’s back was sore, but it was the type of soreness to be expected after enduring a knife in the back and carrying a siren out of a dungeon. There was no throbbing, no heat, no searing pain. All of it meant, or so he hoped, that he had thus far avoided another infection. “Emil’s here?”

Yuuri nodded. “Emil, Chris, Mila, a few others. The ship is on the coast, waiting for when everyone is ready. There’s been a lot of arguing about what to do next.”

Victor wanted in on the arguments. He doubted every siren would agree to whatever schemes his crew were putting forth, because even if they all aimed for a resolution to the current conflict, their ideas for how to achieve it would wildly differ. “What’s the main argument?”

“It’s you.” Yuuri smiled. “Seung-gil says you disobeyed him.”

At first, Victor was not sure how that would lead to an argument, but he could puzzle it together. If he were a siren planning a fight against humans, he would want to make use of his one clear advantage. A few of the right humans under his control might be more than enough to send his enemy into a frenzy. Sow the seed of doubt and what soldier would feel safe to fight, knowing that any one of his fellow men might stab him in the back through the influence of siren commands. Except, Victor had broken the illusion of the sirens’ infallible control over humans. He had rejected a command, and not for the first time. “I did.”

“They want to know if you can disobey others.”

As did Victor. It could have been a fluke. Seung-gil had been weak, his voice shredded, his magic likely suffering from his physical state. Whether he could resist a siren at full power was a different question. “Let’s find out.”

Emil came in to examine him first, helping Victor sit up even though he could manage it on his own. It was a relief to see a familiar face, the weeks spent in the palace hitting with full force. Victor’s bandages were changed, his skin cleaned of dried blood, with Emil testing his sensitivity by pressing lightly around it. Again, it was sore, but nothing more. He laughed when Emil hugged him, welcoming him back to the world of rogues and villains.

Yuuri helped Victor get dressed, staying close by his side to ensure that Victor did not overdo it. To satisfy his lovebird, Victor kept a hand on Yuuri’s arm as Yuuri led him to the room where the sirens and crew had congregated. He bowed his head as he entered, smiling at the mixed company.

Mila was beside Mari, the two speaking in hushed voices. Chris was also present, seated between Yuuko and two sirens Victor did not recognize. Next to them were Minami and Guang Hong, the first looking thrilled and the second sheepishly out of place. Seung-gil was there as well, picking through a bowl of fruit. He did not look well, but he did look better, a bit of color making its way back onto his skin. The only siren absent was Celestino, who had remained with his resting mate.

“Is it true?” The demand came from Yuuri’s sister the moment she noticed him in the room.

They had not told Yuuri’s family that his voice no longer affected Victor. Now would be the time to come clean. “I say we find out,” Victor said. “But please be gentle with your commands. I am an injured man.”

“Then sit down,” Mari said, her voice firm and direct, and yet Victor saw absolutely no reason to obey it.

He remained standing.

There was silence, weighing thick and heavy, as all eyes focused on Victor. Yuuko spoke next, leaning forward as if the distance between them would make a difference. “Victor, walk to me.”

Again, nothing sparked. The haze that had lingered over him from fighting Seung-gil’s command had been washed away by sleep, leaving behind determination. He had always listened to Yuuri so obediently, but it had been more out of love than the influence of magic. Before the final battle against Jean-Jacques, they had never had reason to test it.

“What about Yuuri?” Mari asked.

Yuuri shook his head. “No. It stopped working before the wedding.”

“Victor knows all your voices,” Mila said, looking around at the sirens. “He’s been exposed to them before, that might be why. What about Ketty or Matthieu? This will be the first time.”

Victor presumed those were the two sirens in the room he had yet to be introduced to. They exchanged nods, Victor taking in a deep breath to prepare himself to be hit by a siren’s power.

The one named Ketty gave the command, making her statement with force and conviction. “State your name and your allegiance!”

That time, Victor felt it. The command rang like a beautiful beckon, a plea tingling through him. It was such a simple request, to give his name and to confirm his loyalty in exchange for the happiness of a siren. Victor did want that. He wanted to reassure, to promise, to convince that he was genuine in his desire to help Yuuri’s species out of the mess the two of them had brought about. He did, however, wish to never be at the mercy of a mistaken siren again. Victor resisted and refused. “I will not.”

Once more, a hush fell.

“What of the others?” Seung-gil spoke up from his spot in the corner. He drew the blanket draped over his shoulders tighter around himself. “Humans, stand up!”

Every single human in the room shot to their feet, the actions simultaneous. None other than Victor were immune.

“It took over a year,” Yuuri said softly. “Victor and I spent every day together, and over time… He must have gotten used to the magic. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“A year would be long enough for us to take back control,” Ketty said. “The others are still listening, our influence is not lost.”

“It took a year because Yuuri did not speak for months at the beginning,” Victor reminded. “He was being careful not to accidentally give me orders I could not refuse but over time, we grew less cautious. If he had spoken regularly from the beginning, it might have been far less time.”

“So we cannot count on our voices for long after all,” Yuuko said. “We need to take care not to lose our power, or we won’t be able to use it when we need it most.”

“If we’re losing power by speaking, then we should not speak in front of the humans,” Seung-gil called. “Let us discuss in private.”

“We’re here to help you!” Mila snapped, “Go try on your own, you’ll get yourselves killed!”

“We’ve never needed the aid of humans before,” he growled back at her.

“Seung-gil, a human helped you to escape here,” Ketty reminded softly. “Working together has already been decided. They’re right, this is one fight none of us can win on our own or we would not be here.”

“Did you already have a plan?” Victor asked, coming to join them at the table. Yuuri pulled out his chair for him, making Victor smile.

“The plan was to make our way through the capital and spread doubt about the military’s plans to fight sirens,” Chris supplied, waving a hand. “We were planning to rescue you from the palace, using Freckles there as a bargaining chip to get access. He’ll be relieved that it’s no longer necessary.”

Guang Hong looked particularly small when contrasted against the wings of the sirens seated all around him. He had his legs drawn up, heels perched on the edge of the chair as he hugged his knees to his chest. He had made it through it all like the rest of them, yet still stuck out like a sore thumb.

“As regrettable as it is, our dear Queen’s military isn’t exactly fond of me,” Victor said, gesturing toward his wound. “And they’re still hunting for someone to lead the resistance. I think we might still have some use for Freckles.”

“What…” Guang Hong looked up, blinking in confusion. “You want me?”

“Everyone still thinks you’re a hostage. If you ‘escape’ you can be a force for them to rally around. Feed them information about our plans and help them drive out the pirate scourge who has dared invade the palace. You’ll get to continue your adventure a little differently.”

“You want to send Freckles in as a spy?” Chris asked, his tone dubious.

“We need someone they won’t be suspicious of, but that we can trust,” Victor said. Anyone from his crew would immediately raise suspicion, if they were not arrested on the spot. “He’s proven himself up till now. What do you think?”

Guang Hong dropped his gaze, staring into his palms. “I… I don’t think I’m the best option.”

“You’re the only option,” Mila told him.

“I know I said I would be fine going back to help,” Guang Hong shook his head, shrinking down in his seat, “but that is way different.”

“If he does not want to help, we can command him to it,” Seung-gil stated bluntly.

Guang Hong sank further into his chair. “Please don’t.”

Another portion of their plan crumbled away. Victor had hoped Guang Hong would be eager to embark on another journey, to continue acting as a hero. However, he was not about to force the boy into the middle of a mounting war. “Then we will make peace with whoever they put forward, even if that takes a bit of siren influence. There’s still a lot for us to figure out.”

The lot to figure out came between the steps of rest and recovery. Yuuko and Chris took over the kitchen to make sure everyone had plenty to eat and that those wounded were able to regain their strength quickly. Victor accepted medicinal tea that Yuuko brewed for him with plants taken from the greenhouse and drank it while he made formal introductions with the new sirens and caught up with his crew.

He learned there were more sirens readying to fight off the humans hunting them, that they had Georgi’s assistance and thus an ally within the navy, and that Guang Hong had more than proven himself in the time that Victor and Yuuri had been away. That made the boy’s decision all the more disappointing.

Plans for how to best approach the conflict were discussed, questioned, shredded, and reformed. There was no simple answer. Rushing in would risk too many casualties, and yet going in too slowly might yield the same result. Even if they won the fight, without someone they could rely on working the other side, there was no guarantee that whoever took over the throne would not come seeking revenge.

When Victor felt a headache coming on and it became clear that Seung-gil was having a difficult time keeping conscious, they tabled the discussion for the time being. There were a few members of the crew keeping watch outside the estate to ensure no surprise visitors, as well as a siren circling high overhead. Victor was about to let Yuuri lure him back to bed when Emil came to inform them that Yakov had stirred.

The commodore was barely conscious, the drugs having left him groggy. His eyes were out of focus as Victor leaned over him, laying a gentle hand onto his arm. “Vitya?”

“Seems we both let our guard down,” Victor said. Like father, like son. “The Lady had your drink drugged, but the good doctor says you should recover well.”

Yakov gave a groan of acknowledgment. “And your… your siren?”

“He’s fine. I should warn you, there are more here.”

If Victor’s words processed, Yakov gave no indication. Victor left him there, asking a crew member to watch over him, as an encounter between the commodore and an unfamiliar siren could prove disastrous.

They let the day pass, making use of the expansive estate. Celestino stayed by his mate’s side throughout the hours, clinging to her hand and moving away only when Yuuko or Emil came to examine her. They left them to their privacy otherwise. Victor was likewise relieved to have Yuuri back in his arms and to be back in the company of those he felt at home with.

The night was not carefree but neither was it fitful. Victor slept lightly, kept warm by Yuuri at his side. In the morning, the decision to move had to be put off as the condition of Celestino’s mate failed to improve. Instead, Victor raided the library and found maps, pulling them out of books layered in dust. It had been some time since he had laid out a proper strategy rather than something crafted in the moment. If they were to fight the full force of the military, they would need to prepare.

Victor was marking potential strongholds on the map when he heard the stir outside, and sat at attention in time for the hallway doors to slam open.

Yakov came storming in, his uniform not exactly pressed and his steps widened to keep himself steady. “Vi—” The commodore froze. Seated before him were several sirens, all but Yuuri with their wings on full display, their colored markings stark against their skin. Dispersed between them were pirates, all pouring over maps of the capital city. Only Emil and the two boys were missing, as he had requested their assistance earlier in helping him treat Celestino.

“Nice to see you rejoin the living, sir,” Victor greeted. “Care to join us?”

“What are you…” Disbelief overpowered his rough voice, stripping the strength from it. “Vitya, what have you done?”

“We’ve relieved the Lady of her hosting duties,” Victor answered. “You’ll notice you’re in mixed company, and I urge you not to press your welcome.”

Yakov’s jaw went tight. “How did you… were all these sirens here?”

Victor went to answer, then stopped when the implication of the question hit. He excused himself from the table and strode for the commodore, pulling him from the room. Victor was not gentle, seizing onto Yakov’s collar. “Did you know?”

Yakov scowled, attempting to force Victor’s hands off him. “What are you talking about, boy?”

“Did you know she was keeping them here?” Victor demanded. “Did she know? Did Lilia know?! Were you aware of what she was doing here?!”

“Don’t ask such foolish questions!” Yakov snapped. “Her Majesty cannot possibly keep such close control of all in her court.”

That was not an answer. That did not tell him no. Victor’s hands shook and heat rose through his skin. “But did you know?!”

“We’ve heard rumors.”

Victor pushed Yakov away from him, taking a step back as he curled his fingers into fists. He could feel his movements pulling at his stitches once again, but his nerves refused to settle. “What is the goddamn point of wearing a crown if she can’t control the crimes being committed by her people?!”

“Crimes? You wish to lecture me about crimes, pirate?!” Yakov roared. “Holding a siren is not a crime. But if you are so damn concerned, Her Majesty has given you the chance to change the very laws you flaunt!”

Yakov had known—and yet he had still let Victor bring Yuuri here, without any hint of a warning. If Michele had been more competent in his attempt to kill Victor, or if they had been less careful when accepting the drinks Lady Cornelia had offered, there might have been yet another siren in a cage.

When Victor was growing up, Yakov had taught him to control his anger, insisting that he needed to transform the power of rage into strength and then use it smartly. For years and years, Victor had listened, but he’d only started living after he had dared to disobey. “If you think—”

From down the hall came a crash so violent it shook the walls around them. Victor spun toward the rooms they had been using to rest, fear flooding him. Someone had slipped past their guard, someone working at the estate had escaped Seung-gil’s wrath, someone within his crew had betrayed them—there were too many things that could go wrong. He started forward only to drop to his knees while clutching his ears when a shriek pierced through the halls, resonating with utter anguish.

Victor had heard a siren screech before, but never like this. It sank into his bones, debilitating, rendering him unable to stand even after it stopped ringing through his ears. He staggered up to the sound of screams, forcing himself down the hall. Voices mixed together, calling for help. There were footfalls behind him and Victor used their presence to push himself forward.

The first thing Victor saw was blood. Thick droplets splashed the walls, flung across them in ribbons. More stained the white sheets of the bed Celestino’s mate had been sleeping on and soaked the floor beside it. There was too much to take in.

Standing at the center of the room, Celestino was barely recognizable. His brown feathers dominated his form, leaving no sliver of skin visible beneath them. His talons dripped red as he cradled his mate to him, tears coursing down his siren marking-covered cheeks. His wings were out, curved in to create a protective barrier around them. “Come back, come back.” The words ran on repeat, sung with distress as he pressed his face into her chest, laying it over her heart. “Beat for me, please. Come back. Come back!”

“Celesti—”

“Get away from him!” Minami’s voice came from behind Celestino, though the boy was obscured by his wings.

Celestino snapped up at the shout, glaring straight forward. Victor had seen siren rage enough to know what to expect. This was different. The red in Celestino’s eyes burned so deep it had turned them black. When he stepped forward, the floor shook with the force of it, his talons carving gashes into the wood. The same shriek as before ripped through the room, nearly sending Victor to his knees as Celestino charged forward.

Victor could not move out of his way, paralyzed in place by the cry of agony, but hands seized onto his shoulder and yanked him back a split-second before Celestino could collide with him. Celestino beat his wings, trying to take to the air with the lifeless body of his mate held tightly against him. His flight was unsteady, his injured wing sending him barreling into a wall. He did not stop, pushing up, crashing through the doorway and leaving behind the sound of shattering glass.

None of the other sirens chased him, their expressions beyond grim. Yuuri had told Victor, once, of what happened to a siren that lost their mate. If not destroyed by grief, they would go mad with rage and seek revenge, not stopping until they were rejoined with the lost half of their soul.

“C-captain…”

Victor spun back around. The blood. The blood had not been Celestino’s nor his mate’s. In the corner of the room previously hidden by Celestino’s wings, three of his crew were slumped on the floor.

Minami’s shirt was soaked in red, the color spilling down his side. Victor saw the white of bone, flesh torn from his shoulder. Guang Hong sat with his back to the wall, his face colorless apart from the droplets splashed across it. He had one bloodied arm around Emil, with the other hand pressing stained and bundled sheets against the doctor’s chest. Emil was slouched against the boy and motionless.

The stunned silence shattered.

There was no time to think, only to move. Yuuko and Mila took Minami, careful not to jostle his arm as they separated the boy from the others. They worked at speed, wrapping the wound and giving him tightly wound fabric to bite as they put pressure onto it, resetting the dislocated shoulder. Ketty flew from the room, following barked orders to boil water and find more alcohol.

Emil could not be moved, they saw that as soon as they tried to pull him out of Guang Hong’s arms. Four deep, long gash marks had shredded through his chest, exposing ribs and catching organs. The pool around him continued to spread.

Mari flew to help Ketty as Victor and Chris pulled sheets off the bed, trying to curb the bleeding long enough for the sirens to work their healing magic. Guang Hong remained slumped in the corner, his hands shaking and mouth quivering as he did his best to tremble out an explanation. He could not manage more than a few sentences before he broke down, biting onto his own sleeve to quiet himself as he cried.

The heart of Celestino’s mate had stopped beating and, try as he might, Emil had been unable to make it start again. There was panic and then there was fury, and they had been hit when the siren’s nature took over, flinging the humans away from his mate. Only Guang Hong had narrowly avoided Celestino’s claws, pulling Minami and Emil away from him before he could mangle them any further.

Ketty and Mari returned with supplies, but Victor directed them toward the others when they approached. Emil had been laid down on the floor and covered with a sheet. There was no more breath from his lips and no pulse under his wrist. Chris had to force a screaming Guang Hong away from his body, taking him away to calm down while the rest of them worked on keeping Minami from bleeding out as well.

The boy would make it through but the day had already been marked by darkness.

Come sunset, they released the birds still confined to the greenhouse and set the manor ablaze, carrying Emil out to the ocean to perform funeral rites as the estate burned at their backs. To leave it standing would be permitting its vile, haunting presence to live on. They let it serve as their first mark of war.

As they all readied to return to the ship, Guang Hong came to pull on Victor’s sleeve.

“I’ll do it,” the boy muttered, his voice barely above the volume of the wind, “I’ll go. This has to stop and I want to help. Just tell me what I have to do.”

For now, they only had one goal for all: survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Character death
> 
> [Chapter thirteen art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/610888690809618432/a-heartbroken-siren-leaves-death-and-destruction)


	14. Rescue

Guang Hong wondered what the hero in one of his adventure books would do, when presented with a ship full of those in mourning. As the crew lamented the loss of their good-natured doctor, the sirens sorrowed over the loss of their own. The ship sailed with an eerie quiet, grieving given to silence. Only the cut of the water against the wooden ship echoed around them. 

The Great Pirate Ji had no comfort to offer. He could not play an instrument to lift anyone’s spirits, as the ones he was familiar with were not the type to find their way onto ships for leisure. He had no jokes up his sleeves, no motivational words, no way to rouse everyone to action. While Yuuri sought consolation in Victor’s arms, Mila and Chris found their solace at the bottoms of their rum glasses, sharing drinks with Mari and a few other sirens who wished to dull the despair. 

Minami, meanwhile, had gone quiet and withdrawn to recover, leaving Guang Hong without his one true companion. Not that Guang Hong blamed him. He was trying to break himself out of the haze that kept clouding over him as well. Whenever he looked down at his hands, Guang Hong could swear they were still coated in blood and it would take a minute to shake the vision. Emil had died in his arms and he had been helpless to stop it. That was not the mark of a hero. If he couldn’t defend his companions when they were meant to be in a safe space, how did anyone expect him to help lead an entire military astray? 

The ship sailed over gentle waves, bringing them too close to the capital’s harbor. They were tempting fate but there was no holding back now. The plan was set, with everyone prepared to make their move as soon as they regained the cover of night. The sirens would change out of their robes and disguise themselves in clothing borrowed from the crew, painting over their markings to keep themselves hidden. Those from the crew who would take to land had outfitted themselves with stolen navy uniforms, hoping to blend in long enough to disappear into the city. 

There would be no grand showdown, but a steady push of influence. Subtle, slow, but safe. Cut the risk of losses, both human and siren. The less blood spilt, the less resistance they would meet. Guang Hong was fine with that. He was through with adventure, if it came entangled in the buildup to a war. 

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand.” 

In the quiet that wrapped the ship, the captain’s voice carried. Victor and Yuuri had remained on the main deck, as pillars of support to anyone who needed them there. Despite the circumstances, it was a relief to have their captain back. The ship almost felt whole again. 

“Does she really have no one else she can name?”

The question was a fair one. Guang Hong tried to imagine what he would have made of the news that the Queen intended to crown a pirate as her heir, if he were still back home. No doubt, he would have been delighted at first, before the worries crept in. Guang Hong did not think his family would be the type to support a “traitor.” They were the type to gossip, to get drawn into the stories and supposed scandal brewing in the royal court. Guang Hong had heard so many rumors from visiting family friends and during parties, some about the pirate prince, some about displeasure building within the court, and some about the Queen’s supposedly ailing condition. What was fiction and what was true had not always been clear. 

Realization struck. Guang Hong pushed himself up and inched closer, excusing himself as he passed Mari and a couple of other sirens. He had not met the Queen himself and had no way of knowing if any of the tales he’d heard bore any sort of reality. Talk was cheaper and it was quick, and it had influence in circles where wealth was not a factor, 

“Ummm, captain?” Guang Hong was unsure of how to draw Victor’s attention or if his intrusion into the conversation would even be welcome. When Victor and Yuuri did turn to look in his direction, he did his best not to shrink away. “Before I, uhhhh, before I came here, there was some talk that Her Majesty’s health wasn’t in the best condition. She had been absent from several celebrations and there were rumors that she might miss the midsummer festival. I don’t know if it’s true but…” 

Victor listened, his solemn expression unchanged. When Guang Hong trailed off, the captain’s gaze shifted to Yuuri. “She was a bit frail, wasn’t she?”

Yuuri nodded and wrote something onto Victor’s palm, after which the captain then curled his fingers around Yuuri’s hand and sighed. “Come with me, lovebird. If he won’t talk, you can make him talk. I am tired of not knowing the truth.”

There had been debate about what to do with the commodore, but leaving him behind had been deemed too foolish of a risk. Watching him be marched down into the ship’s brig by an escort of sirens had come with a note of amusement on the captain’s face, but now Victor simply looked worn. He and Yuuri left the small gathering on the deck, descending into the belly of the ship to ask the commodore a few choice questions. When they returned, after an hour’s passing, neither the captain nor his mate appeared to have been reassured. 

Victor made no mention of what they had been told and instead began readying the crew as evening fell. 

While flying in might have been the most efficient approach, a single mistake would likely raise the entire capital to arms. They kept their approach slow, making their way toward the shore by groups in dinghies. The first launched after the dark had settled properly, giving them the promise of docks free from most activity. If they were discovered by a worker making evening rounds, they had the siren magic to quiet panic and the skills necessary to lower a body soundlessly into the water. 

Guang Hong took center position in the third group, doing his best to keep silent as they dragged the small boat onto the sandy shores away from the direct line of sight of the main harbor. Too many of them clustered together at once would be bound to raise suspicion. 

The goal of the first group was to make their way through the city, the disguised sirens within it tasked with whispering doubts into the ears of anyone they met. The Queen’s army wanted to fight the sirens, but that would only bring harm and death to those that lived within the city borders. The only way to stay safe was to avoid the fight and to oppose the fight. 

The second group had the goal of sowing dissent within the ranks of Lilia’s navy. It would be a challenging task, but Victor knew which taverns and which entertainment halls the men favored in the evenings. A few good drinks would be enough for guards to be lowered and for the words of an uncannily beautiful woman to have an effect like magic. 

As for Guang Hong and his group, they were to make their way toward the palace, where he was meant to be exchanged. Guang Hong had never imagined that his pirate life would come to an end with him acting as a bargaining chip. If it was the Queen who met them, Mila would offer Guang Hong’s return for the promise to let Victor be. Let her use her time to find someone else to take up the mantle. If it were one of her generals or a member of the court, the price for Guang Hong would be a full pardon for the pirate ship. They did not expect either deal to be taken. 

Neither did they expect, however, for their path through the city to be cut off by a line of soldiers, all standing at attention in wait. Guang Hong froze, then yelped when his arm was seized by Otabek, the gunner yanking him in and pointing the barrel of a pistol at his head. For a moment, he nearly panicked and tried to jerk away, before a stern look for Otabek reminded him of why. He was not part of the crew. He was meant to be a hostage, a rich boy being held by the pirates as a safety net. A hostage that walked around freely and did not try to flee the moment he saw his chance would likely raise suspicion. 

Mila stepped in front of them, blocking Guang Hong from view. She drew her sword, while the fingers of her left hand twitched over the handle of her pistol. “Officer Yang, how kind of you to come and greet us. Did someone tip you off?”

Guang Hong wiggled over an inch, peeking around to see a uniformed woman leading the soldiers. Long dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, and her commendations were clearly visible above her breast pocket. Guang Hong recognized her as well. She had been engaged to the late Jean-Jacques. He did not think that boded well for them. 

“Hand over the kid and maybe you’ll buy yourself enough time to run,” Isabella snapped. “I’d heard that Nikiforov’s crew ran with a bit of honor, but you’ve proven yourself as vile as the rest.”

Seeing as Victor’s beloved had torn her beloved to shreds, Guang Hong did not expect the crew to be shown much sympathy. He was right. The first shot thundered in his ears, but there was no time to process it as Otabek shoved him down and out of the way of a flying blade. 

Guang Hong wondered how long it had taken those on the crew to get used to the fighting. Yuri and Otabek, who gripped blades in both hands as they launched themselves at soldiers, had followed Victor out of the navy. As for Mila, he had heard that Victor had recruited her off another ship. They had Mari with them too, the disguised siren plowing through soldiers with bare fists. For her, it would be second nature. Guang Hong had thought that he would be used to it by now, having grown accustomed to how blades flashed and guns smoked and cries echoed. But the first spurt of blood, which came from Mila’s pistol blowing the helmet off a soldier’s head, had him shaking. 

Guang Hong scrambled to his feet, grasping blindly for the blade on his belt. He threw himself forward, knocking an armed soldier away from Mari before she could be surrounded. He didn’t know what to do, who to fight, or where to run. He rammed a shoulder into the sternum of another man and kept running, hoping that he might divert some attention onto himself and buy the others some time or an opportunity. There were not that many soldiers, perhaps ten or twelve, but that was still double their small group and Guang Hong would give himself away if he fought too hard. 

How had the Queen’s army even known to expect them? There would have been no chance to send out a letter or to pass off a whisper. They had let time go by, an hour between each group, for their arrival on the capital shores. Had someone in the first group sold them out? The sirens within it had been accompanied by Christophe and Georgi. If either of them had been caught or— 

Guang Hong’s feet left the ground. He yelled as he was thrown over someone’s shoulder, and when he kicked, his foot hit armor. He went still, eyes wide and ears buzzing as a soldier shouted at him. Another shot sounded, drowning out the question, but Guang Hong could read it off his lips. He nodded in response, voice trapped in his throat. Yes, he was the missing son of the Ji family. 

He should have said goodbye, back on the ship. He didn’t know why it had not come to mind then, when they had loaded themselves onto the boats. The crew had taken him in, had protected him, had shown him mercy even when he had not deserved it. He should have thanked Victor and Yuuri, at the very least. Whether everything went well or not, there was no guarantee he would see them again. 

As the soldier swung him around, Guang Hong caught sight of the others fighting back the soldiers. Mari’s hands dripped with red, her sleeves stained up to the elbows. Otabek had stripped a soldier of his sword, while Yuri drove a blade between the plates of armor of another. Mila was locked in combat with Isabella and was holding her ground until her focus flashed to Guang Hong. Isabella dropped and the last vision Guang Hong saw before being carried off was that of a sword carving into Mila’s leg. 

He wanted to shout. He wanted to rip the knife from his belt and plunge it into the neck of the man carrying him, and run to Mila’s aid. He wanted to break free and do something, but that was not the plan. Guang Hong was not the hero, he was the damsel in distress in need of rescuing. 

Curling into himself, Guang Hong swallowed the instinct to fight and let himself be taken away. They would survive. They would make it out. He had to have faith. Mari was there. She had her claws, and her wings, and her voice. They were not going to come this far and be defeated. 

Guang Hong refused to speak. Not when he was set down on his own two feet, not when he realized he was being flanked by more soldiers. When questions came at him, he answered them with silence. Better to say nothing than to let slip a mistake. 

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Guang Hong kept waiting for the worst to happen, to hear the shrieks of attacking sirens or to feel the pressure of cannons blasting from the capital’s coast. Nothing of the sort occured. He was taken into the palace, given a change of clothes and a hot meal, and even offered a bath. He accepted it all, though none of it felt real. 

No one came to him to ask about the pirates or sirens. There was no guard stationed outside the room he had been told to rest in. When dawn broke, Guang Hong had not slept a wink. He ran to the nearest window that faced the ocean, to make sure there were no ships ablaze out on the waters. 

The hours passed slowly after that, but, come noon, Guang Hong found himself in new company. Two palace guards arrived and with them came Guang Hong’s family. 

Guang Hong had yet to consider how he would feel upon seeing his parents again. How long had it been? Not that long, in his eyes. Half a year, perhaps a bit longer. Instead of the bitterness he had felt when he had run off, he felt relief. His mother’s sobs filled his ears and her tears wet his face as she wrapped him in her arms and refused to let go. 

He let her, answering all the questions that came at him in rapidfire. Was he injured? No. Was he thinner? Yes. Was he harmed, had the pirates mistreated and abused him? No, and no. He was fine. They had treated him with care, he promised. He had even learned a lot, the kinds of skills that he would never gain from books. 

His father kept at his mother’s back, standing with straight posture as if he were a protective wall towering over them. When Guang Hong’s mother finally released him, he sprang up and bowed to his father, who responded to him with a nod. Despite it, Guang Hong felt at ease. It was home, seen through new eyes. He was safe, he was not being treated with suspicion, and he was— 

“Ji?”

Standing with both feet behind the line of the doorway was the last person Guang Hong expected to see and the one person he had wanted to see most. Leo was in his smithing clothes, but they were pressed and clean. His dark eyes were wide and swimming with disbelief, his tanned skin gone pale as if he were seeing a ghost. 

There was the faint drone of a voice at Guang Hong’s side, his mother speaking to him. She explained, “We thought you might want a friend…” and Guang Hong did not hear anything beyond that. 

The carpet beneath his feet slipped, however, Guang Hong did not let that slow him down. He threw himself at Leo, his vision blurring as his hands bundled into fists at Leo’s back. Leo’s grip was tight around him and Guang Hong melted into it, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from sobbing into Leo’s shoulder. For all the adventure out on the high seas, the greatest reward was a familiar and fond embrace. 

“Are you okay?” The words brushed softly against his ear. Guang Hong could only nod, unable to find the right words to communicate every emotion threatening to burst from his chest. 

When Guang Hong finally permitted himself to pull back, he saw the droplets glimmering on Leo’s cheeks and laughed when Leo wiped a few of his from his face. “Thank you…”

“It’s going to be fine from now on, my dear,” Guang Hong’s mother called out to him, smoothing the front of her dress as she approached. “We’re going to bring you home. The Queen has promised to send a royal escort with us, for protection.”

Guang Hong knew that he would be fine, but those who were depending on him were the ones who would need protecting. He wiped away the tears still pooling in the corners of his eyes and squared his back, taking a deep and decisive breath. “Actually, if it’s possible, I might have some information that could help Her Majesty...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [CC's chapter art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/613425397673115648/gh-and-leo-reunitein-the-siren-au)


	15. Nobleblood

Guang Hong very quickly began to understand why Victor had left his life in the royal court in favor of piracy. Whereas the crew of the ship made decisions swiftly, with votes giving clarity in times of conflict, the royal court moved slowly, caught up in debate rather than action. 

It did not help that no one seemed willing to listen to him. At first, Guang Hong had thought it was because they all suspected that he would not be offering the truth. However, it did not take long to realize it was because he was not seen as a source of value. His request to seek council with the Queen was denied, though he did meet with a number of her military officers. 

Guang Hong had his little list of lies ready, heart pounding and hair standing on end as he prepared himself for the consequences of being caught. Victor had warned him, when they had reviewed the plan, that if anything went wrong, Guang Hong would be tried for treason. The sentence for it was death. Yet Guang Hong didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if he took the easy way out, returning to a life of luxury while lives continued to be lost all around him. 

Maybe he was not the protagonist from the adventure books he’d loved so much. He was not tall or strong or skilled, not ruggedly handsome or particularly brave. But he was not a quitter, and he was not going to let himself fade into the background when there was something he could do and people he could protect. And maybe, through his efforts, at least Leo would finally see him as a hero.

His preparation, however, was for naught. He was barely given opportunity to speak, expected to answer the questions asked of him directly, concisely, and without room for sway. Whenever he did try to offer a little more or slip in a suggestion, he was cut off and ignored. 

Guang Hong was honest, for the most part. When asked about how he had been treated on the ship, he confessed that he was treated decently. When asked how many sirens were helping the pirate crew, he said that he had seen a few. When asked about the intentions of the unlikely alliance between the pirates and the sirens, he answered that both sides wanted a return to normalcy—that response was laughed away and dismissed without consideration. 

With the whispers that he overheard and the tensions he witnessed growing between members of Lilia’s court, Guang Hong could piece together why everyone seemed hesitant. There was agreement that Victor was not the right successor for the throne, yet there was no consensus on who should take his place. While the words of one noble hinted at the desire to strip the decision from the hands of the Queen, not many seemed willing to overthrow her completely. Her Majesty was well-loved and respected outside the palace walls; to do so without cause would risk sparking rebellion. The plot to use fear of Victor’s siren had all but fallen through with the news that the prince and his husband had gone missing, and while many within the court did raise their own noble bloodlines for consideration, there was no consensus to be had. There was no one adequate to unite behind. 

Guang Hong and his family remained as guests within the palace for the time being, and while his parents were thrilled by the hospitality, Guang Hong grew more and more anxious by the hour. One day rolled into the next and then into the one that followed, with no pirate ship spotted on the horizon and no movement from within the court. However, on the fourth morning, Guang Hong awoke to far too much movement. 

From outside his window came shouted commands, ordering military officers to prepare for combat. The ground shook with the multitude of footsteps running past and the faintest hint of smoke tickled Guang Hong’s nose. He had barely finished getting dressed, hastily throwing clothing on himself, when Leo came bursting through the door. 

“Ji, hurry up! Something’s attacking the city. Palace guards are going to take us someplace safer.”

As much as he had been waiting for something to break, Guang Hong did not think that Victor would have led with an assault. “Is it pirates?”

“No. Someone said it might be a siren. Now, come on!”

“Just one?”

“I don’t know, Ji!”

Victor would not have sent in Yuuri. They had wanted to avoid harming the capital as much as possible. It was possible one of the other sirens had grown tired of waiting—or it could have been one who had lost far too much recently. 

“I think I know who it is,” Guang Hong muttered. He needed to see to confirm it. Closing his eyes, Guang Hong envisioned the palace. There were far too many rooms, too many winding hallways, and yet not enough places where he would be able to get a proper view of the city outside the walls. The point was to keep the palace enclosed, guarded against attack—the watchtowers. 

Grabbing ahold of Leo’s hand, Guang Hong pulled him out of the room and made Leo run with him. 

Despite catching his feet on the carpet in the sudden haste, Leo followed him. “Ji, what… where are you going?”

“I need to see what’s happening.”

“I told you! There’s an attack.”

There would be no use arguing, so Guang Hong did not bother. He kept going, dragging Leo down the halls and ignoring the shouts of guards who failed to chase after them. Guang Hong could hear the dull blast of a cannon firing in the distance. Those tasked with protecting the palace would have far more important duties to attend to, meaning he did not have to worry about being stopped or questioned. 

Guang Hong was short of breath when they reached the top of the watchtower. A year prior, he would have never made it up the winding staircase, but the months of work on the pirate ship had toughened him well enough. He grasped the edge of an open outlook, leaning out to scan the city view. 

From the center of the capital, white smoke rose in plumes. By the city square, a full block was reduced to rubble, shops and homes collapsed by an unseen force. The streets spanning from the palace were lined with soldiers rushing into the heart of the city, to help those in need and to fight the perpetrator. 

“Ji…”

Guang Hong disregarded Leo’s soft plea, scanning the scattered damage before turning his eyes to the skyline. That was the right decision, as within moments he saw the flash of an impressive wingspan just before a siren dive-bombed the city. Guang Hong watched, trembling, as a house appeared to explode from the force of the collision alone. He had already witnessed the efficiency with which sirens sank ships, their claws able to tear through wood as if it were paper. He doubted wood-built homes would make much of a difference. 

“I—I know that siren,” Guang Hong’s voice shook as he spoke, his throat going tight. “It’s Celestino…”

“What does that matter?”

Guang Hong remembered what Minami said. That a siren who had lost their mate would stop at nothing, too overwhelmed by grief and rage. If Celestino was seeking revenge against those who had cost him his mate, it was possible he would be laying blame on each and every human. And if that were true, he would not stop until he had flattened the entire city. 

“I… I have to get down there.”

Leo grabbed onto Guang Hong’s wrists, jerking away from the window. “Are you crazy? What are you going to do with a rampaging siren?”

In all honesty, Guang Hong did not know. He had no secret tricks, no knowledge of some special song that could be used to heal an aching siren soul. It would be a fool’s death wish to approach, but he would rather die trying than cowering in a palace safe room, waiting to be torn limb from limb. “I’m going to do what Captain Silverlock did best… Improvise.”

“Ji—no, Guang Hong!” Leo snatched at him again, keeping Guang Hong in place when he tried to run. “Please, we just found you…”

With his heart pounding in his chest, Guang Hong leaned up and let his lips brush ever so delicately against Leo’s. Raised up on his toes, he lingered for a moment, smiling softly to himself when he pulled back. If he was going to meet with death, he deserved to claim his first kiss before then. “Keep yourself and my parents safe.”

Leo’s grip loosened just enough to let Guang Hong tear away and go racing down the watchtower steps. 

The city was awash in chaos. Smoke continued to spread, filling the sky and tainting the air. He heard muskets firing and the scream of a soldier who had been plucked up by the raging siren, flown high into the clouds and then dropped. Civilians were flooding the streets, running from the source of the mayhem. 

Guang Hong knew he would not be able to make it through the city on foot, so he took advantage of the now unguarded palace stables. Of all the things his parents had forced him to learn throughout his youth, he would need to thank them for their insistence on riding lessons. 

It did take him an embarrassingly long time to mount one of the few remaining horses, and he remembered at the last moment that he should mute his ears. Using the knife on his belt—the same one Leo had given to him on his birthday—Guang Hong cut off the hem of his shirt. He twisted small pieces of fabric and stuffed them into his ears, wrapping the rest of the long strip around his head to further mute the sounds around him. If only Victor’s immunity to siren voices had extended to everyone. 

Taking in one deep breath and shaking the bit of fog from his head, Guang Hong drove the horse forward. He did not want to give himself time to think, because if he did, he would be scared motionless. 

The closer he grew to the city square, the harder it became to see. Smoke clouded the streets and soon the cobbled stone was scattered with the debris of collapsed buildings. Guang Hong saw the red of flames flickering toward him and changed direction, following the echo of gunfire and mangled shouts. 

To think a single siren had torn out the heart of the capital and set it aflame. 

As he rounded a corner onto a mass of soldiers, Guang Hong’s horse skidded to a sudden stop and reared. He clung onto its neck, spine jolting as it touched back down. Brown wings splattered in both fresh and dried blood flashed past his line of sight, and in the next moment siren claws took out an entire row of soldiers, slicing through the metal of their armor with no resistance. 

Muskets fired at close range, littering Celestino with bullets, and yet he barely slowed. He spun sharply through the air, beating away smoke with his wings, before surging in and crashing through another line of soldiers. Guang Hong couldn’t breathe clearly, see clearly, or think clearly. Men rushed at Celestino with swords and silk nets, but he knocked both away and struck back. 

Guang Hong could not move, not knowing where to go or what he could possibly do. He saw Celestino’s claws rip the armor off a soldier’s chest, talons shredding flesh into ribbons. Just like with Emil. He wasn’t going to stop. Celestino wasn’t going to stop. He was going to reduce the entire city to ruins and keep going. 

“Load!”

Snapping around at the chorus of voices, Guang Hong squinted to try to see past the haze as more soldiers gave their lives in frail attempts to put down Celestino. 

“Hold!” Through the smoke came the form of a wheeled cannon, manned by at least ten soldiers, the muzzle pointed in Celestino’s direction. The siren seemed to see it at the same moment as Guang Hong, and he unfurled his wings and barreled toward it. 

“No—”

“Fire!”

Guang Hong’s terrified gasp was cut by a command and a blast. The cannonball found its target, smashing through one of Celestino’s wings. Guang Hong ducked his head and slapped his hands over his ears a split second before the screech came, piercing through him despite his best attempts to mute it. He had never felt such pain before. It drove through his head like a cleaver and surged down his spine, paralyzing him. His horse and the soldiers before him who received the full blast of the siren’s voice collapsed to the ground and remained there, lifeless. Guang Hong kept his hands clasped over his ears even as he fell and hit the ground, gritting his teeth to keep himself from screaming. 

The second screech was softer, the wounded wail of a creature in agony. Guang Hong pushed himself up with trembling limbs, his vision dizzied by the force of Celestino’s voice. Not far from him, a breathing soldier stirred, attempting to draw a sword. He was put down quickly by the stumbling siren, his throat torn out by bloodied claws. 

Celestino’s left wing was beyond broken, ripped from its socket and trailing behind him with singed and battered feathers. As Celestino grew closer, Guang Hong could finally see the condition the siren was in. His feathers were matted with blood, body riddled with bullets and slashed by sword strikes. He couldn’t possibly keep going like this. 

“Celestino…” Guang Hong forced himself forward, stepping in front of the barely standing siren and cutting him off from the remaining soldiers. “Celestino, please stop…”

There was no color in Celestino’s eyes, no light. They were still stained black and barely visible through his rage-spread feathers. His movements, however, had slowed enough that when he reached out, Guang Hong was able to grip onto his wrist and halt him. 

“Celestino, you have to stop. This isn’t right, this isn’t the right place for your revenge. The people living here did nothing. You’re separating people from their mates, Celestino, think about that. You’re going to be leaving peeplings without their parents.”

“It hurts…”

The growl hit Guang Hong’s heart and crushed it, the magic flooding him with the same despair driving Celestino. It was grounding, maddening, as if all the air had been stripped from Guang Hong’s lungs and taken everything worth living for with it. The world was hollow, left without love and without purpose, and it needed to burn for leaving him alone in it. Guang Hong choked back a sob and nodded. “I know. I know it does. Just… let me help you. I helped you before, didn’t I? I saved you. Give me a chance here. I can help you again.” 

Celestino curled his talons in around Guang Hong’s hand, the sharp tips on the verge of piercing his skin. “Can you bring me back to her?”

There was only one way he could. Nodding as tears filled his eyes, Guang Hong stepped in and found the knife at his belt. Despite the tremor in his fingers, he managed to grip the blade firmly enough to drive it into Celestino’s chest, between his ribs and straight into his heart. “I’m so sorry,” Guang Hong whispered, holding Celestino to him as the siren crumpled in his arms. “I hope you find her again.”

The city went strangely quiet as Guang Hong sank to the ground, cradling a lifeless siren. Or perhaps it only seemed that way as Guang Hong swallowed his own sobs, unable to take calming breaths as the billowing smoke would have choked him. 

Gradually, whispers and movement built up around him. When someone with striped insignia on their sleeves approached and reached out to him, Guang Hong slapped them away. He did not need a hand up, nor words of false reassurance. Standing up on his own, he squared his shoulders and faced down an admiral, recognizing the man as one who had ignored him in the days past. “Now will you listen?!” he snapped, holding up his blood-stained hands. 

“There are more sirens approaching on the horizon, Master Ji.”

Good. That meant Victor and Yuuri were sailing in. 

It was time to start a battle and to finish a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 15 art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/615962210946170880/a-kiss-in-dangerous-times)


	16. A Siren's Fall

Victor draped silken black fabric over Yuuri and tied a silver sash around his waist before leaning in to press his lips to Yuuri’s forehead. With help from the sirens who had joined them, they had managed to secure Yuuri new robes. They were plain, missing the jewels that had decorated the previous set, but Victor had promised they could stitch in new ones once the conflict had settled.

Soon. It would be over soon. If everything went the way they had planned it, it would not be long before they could find their peace together. The winter was warming into spring and Victor desperately wanted to experience a proper mating season with Yuuri that year.

Leaning up, Yuuri cupped Victor’s face in his hands and kissed him slowly, lingering. Utter confidence going into the fight would be foolish and the last few minutes of calm needed to be savored. “Are you sure?” Yuuri muttered, his fingertips brushing back strands of Victor’s silver hair.

“No,” Victor laughed, bringing Yuuri’s hands to his mouth to kiss his palms and his fingers. “But have I failed us yet? We’re not running from this, Yuuri. We’re making sure the fighting stops. You chose yourself a very problematic mate. I hope you don’t regret it.”

Shaking his head, Yuuri stepped back but kept his hands in Victor’s, threading their fingers together. He said nothing more, as it was not needed, and together they left the cabin, taking to the main deck of the ship.

The crew and ship had already prepared for battle, and sirens were perched along the rigging of every sail, decorating the usual white with their multicolored wings. On the starboard rail sat Phichit, his tail draped heavily over the edge, fins flickering with nervous anticipation. Yuuri had sought him out in the days prior, bribing help out of his friend with choice gems and jewelry. All that was left was to wait.

By noon, the ship was in sight of the coastline. The smoke billowing from the heart of the capital raised concern and murmurs from all sides, qualmed only when Mari broke through the clouds overhead. She shed her human disguise as soon as she landed, wrapping herself in the robes brought to her by Yuuko. The report she gave was both grim and a cause for encouragement.

Celestino was dead and he had taken close to a quarter of the city out with him. However, young master Ji was exactly where he needed to be and the influence of siren magic had been spread through the Queen’s forces. The navy had seen their ship approaching and were readying their response. There would be no hesitation, not when sirens had been spotted circling Victor’s ship. Within hours, the navy’s ships had launched and the frontline of the Queen’s armada was sailing against the tide to challenge the lone pirate vessel.

With cannons loaded below deck and sirens ruffling their feathers above, they were ready. Victor had no intention of trying to negotiate with the navy. They were there to fight, to drive back the full power of Lilia’s forces through the terror of enraged sirens, and to restore the balance between humans and sirens through their victory. It would work. It had to work.

“If Freckles is with them, keep him safe,” Victor called out to the crew and sirens. “And keep yourselves safe! They’ll have silk nets and their ears muted. Sinking a fleet isn’t as easy as sinking a ship.”

“With a bit of effort, nothing is impossible,” Mari stated, her wings spread behind her and her stance at the ready. Her feet and hands, as those of the other sirens, had already morphed into claws, the tips of her talons digging into the deck. There was a knife tucked into the sash around her waist. Each siren had been given one, in case any sailor got lucky in throwing a silk net that siren claws could not rip through. “Let us try.”

By Victor’s side, Yuuri bit back a smile and squeezed his husband’s hand.

As the fleet approached, one ship sailed out in front. Victor was unwilling to wait and be surprised by tricks while distracted by false negotiations. No navy would send out an entire fleet with the intention of hosting civil discussions. As soon as the navy ship was within range, Victor shouted the command. After all, pirates did not fight fair but neither did the navy.

Cannons blasted, pelting the approaching ship. Before the smoke had even cleared, sirens leapt from their perches amongst the pirate sails, diving down to tear open the wooden belly. They kept close to the water, away from the angled reach of guns and nets, splitting wood and letting the ocean flood in.

As siren wings and screeches filled the air, the reality of the battle to come descended. Within minutes, the leading ship had sunk heavily in the water. Panicked voices echoed as sailors hit the waves, leaping overboard to avoid the flock of sirens plucking men from the deck. Weapons were stripped and dropped into the sea, with several sirens charging toward the frontline of the fleet to toss lifeless bodies at the feet of still-breathing sailors.

The initial shock, however, faded fast and soon gunfire and cannon smoke drowned out all other sounds. Navy ships, sails filled with a favorable wind, raced forward, aiming to surround Victor’s ship. They could not afford to let them, but that was where Phichit’s help would come in. The mer leapt into the water and disappeared under the foaming blue.

As one of the navy ships broke rank, aiming to cut off the bow of Victor’s, Victor leapt onto the railing, drawing his sword. It had been a bit too long since he had engaged in a good and proper fight, and there was the chance it would be his last for a long time to come. “Come on, lovebird. Let’s fly.”

Chirring all too sweetly, Yuuri lifted him into the air and carried him across the water to the deck of the approaching ship. His boots hit the deck and his sword met the blade of a sailor. One swift twirl of his wrist and a lunging step forward, and Victor disarmed the man, muttering an apology as he kicked him overboard. Mere feet away, Yuuri snatched sailors within his claws and threw them over as well, clearing the deck of men.

More pirates stormed the ship, dropped onto it by assisting sirens. They held onto ropes as their grappling hooks littered the bow of the naval ship, seizing onto wood and rigging, pulling taut until the ship itself began to turn through heaving force.

Victor darted to the helm, knocking away the sailor at the wheel and lodging a bullet into his chest when he attempted to take back control. Spinning the ship’s wheel, Victor turned the rudder and held it steady as the ship veered slowly, speed cut by the pressure of the water. As pirates fought back navy men and the rotation of the ship put it into line with Victor’s, the two vessels tied bow to bow, sirens flew down into the gun deck below. Victor did not have to hear them to know what their commands would be: load and fire.

Flint sparked, gunpowder igniting, and cannons lining both the pirate and navy ship sent their loads hurling at the fleet. Wood shattered, rigging frayed, and sails were shredded. The air was bitter with smoke, providing cover to the sirens that swooped in to rip out the hulls of the damaged ships. While they sank, more came in to replace them and through the clearing wisps of white, Victor saw what they were preparing.

Having secured the wheel of the ship, Victor abandoned it, sprinting back across to his own. “They’re readying nets!”

Before him, sirens continued to dive-bomb the naval ships. They slashed through sails and left gashes in the wood greater than those caused by the cannons. Men who aimed guns at one siren found their chests torn open by another. However, as the fleet started lowering nets of silk between their rigging and rolling out guns designed to fire at attacking sirens, they had little time to stall. If any of the ships found success in capturing the sirens, their limited advantage would crumble.

Victor darted below deck, finding Otabek. He grabbed his shoulder, jerking the gunner back from his position at the ship’s cannons. “Use the oil cloths. Aim for the sails.”

Wiping sweat from his brow, Otabek nodded. “You heard him! Take caution and keep your water buckets close!”

Fire below deck on a ship would spell doom faster than a storm of harpies. As Otabek and his crew loaded round-shot wrapped in oil-soaked canvas, Victor raced to the surface, shouting a warning to the sirens. Their chattering chirps spread from one to the other and all turned up, taking to the clouds. The cannons fired.

The oil-soaked cloth wrapping the shots caught fire as they were blasted out, sparking from the heat of the igniting gunpowder. The silk nets raised before the navy’s sails burst into flames the moment they were touched, the cannonballs smashing through masts and setting rigging alight. There was no need for the sirens to aid the ships’ sinking, fire chewing freely through cloth and timber.

Yet even as ships burned, more overtook them. Except this time, they did not come in short lines but as one right after the other, barreling forward so that if one fell, the next would be there to replace it. Victor could hear the roar of voices carrying across the waves, but they would soon be swallowed.

In the distance between the ships, the water churned and bubbled. Brightly colored fins dipped in and out of sight—the mers that had been bribed with chests full of gold arriving to stir the sea. As they swam, fins pushing the currents into compliance, the water began to spiral.  
The mer’s maelstrom built, expanding until it stretched large enough to engulf a ship with ease. The navy ships sailing in tried to maneuver away from it too late. Caught in the growing current, they buckled forward and rolled, plummeting into the whirling surf. As they descended, mers leapt from the waters, shark-sharp teeth gleaming in the moments before they seized onto men and dragged them under.

Of the ships that had sailed out from the capital’s harbor, half remained. While mers threatened them from below, halting movement and scattering their formation, sirens encircled them from high above. The navy was fighting a losing battle, driven back by a single pirate ship and its allies. All that was left was to seize their lead, and Victor could see it breaking for them.

A single ship surpassed those struggling to avoid the pull of the mers, looping the waves with its sails filled by the wind. The speed at which ships could sail always seemed leisurely from afar, yet breakneck when near. For all their efforts, there was no avoiding the collision when it came. The navy ship rammed the stern of the pirate ship, pushing it back and folding it in against the ship still tied in against its bow.

Victor’s gaze flashed up, spotting Yuuri’s winged form in the sky above. This would be it. The final stage. One last grand performance, and with any luck, they could escape together. Victor had lived enough adventure for one lifetime. What he wanted more than anything was to build a nest with Yuuri, on a small and quiet island where it would always be warm and the fruit on the trees would be plentiful. Victor would not mind learning the ways of siren medicine, working with Yuuri to aid those who needed it. A tranquil life. It sounded blissful.

Then, the ship shook for a second time and Victor’s ears rang from the proximity of blasting cannons. The same ship that had rammed into them had fired at them, foolishly. The shrapnel that would result from blasting out their side at such close range would leave the navy’s gun deck paralyzed long enough for the pirates to spring to action.

With his sword in hand, Victor’s boots beat a flat rhythm as he ran and leapt across onto the navy ship. The blade found the throat of one man and left it red, then carved open the chest of another. Victor fought forward, beating away blades and pistols until his sword locked with that of a familiar officer.

“Why won’t you just die, Nikiforov?” Michele spat in Victor’s face, shoving him back through brute force. “Die and leave the rest of us at peace!”

“That’d be too simple.” Victor parried the blows of Michele’s weapon, ducking and firing a pistol into the stomach of another sailor that tried to rush him. “And isn’t it by your failure that I’m still breathing?”

“I intend to fix that!”

Metal echoed off metal as they exchanged blows, dancing around one another. From the corners of his eyes, Victor caught glimpses of Chris locking knives with a sailor, of Mari hurling a limp body into the ocean, of a still-bandaged Minami severing the heels of men far larger than him, and of—no, how was he there, he would spoil their plot and—

A precise strike knocked the sword from Victor’s hand and a kick to the center of his chest sent him reeling backwards. He stumbled and grabbed for the knife in his boot, flipping it to throw it at Michele before he could get closer, only Michele’s focus was not on Victor. The officer was aiming a gun overhead, at Yuuri.

“Lovebird!”

Yuuri’s wings were pressed in tightly against his back as he plunged toward the deck, screeching shrilly at Michele. Victor’s footing failed him, slipping as he tried to rush in. The flintlock in Michele’s hand clicked and fired.

The bullet struck, but it did not strike Yuuri. The same cannonfire that had ripped open the side of Victor’s ship had shredded through the brig below. Yakov had bowled into Michele, wrenching the pistol from his hand, though not before taking the shot. Red swelled from his chest, staining the front of his uniform, and he collapsed.

Rage ripped from Victor’s throat and he launched himself at Michele, driving his knife straight into the officer’s heart, twisting it in to make sure he did not miss. If Michele had choked out final words, Victor did not listen, pushing him back and over the railing. His body hit the water and vanished, pulled into the whirling waters.

As much as he should have savored the sight, Victor turned back and dropped down, tearing open the layers of Yakov’s uniform to find where the bullet had struck. Blood was flowing but the wound was high, lodged just beneath his collar. Hastily bundling fabric, Victor grabbed Yakov’s hands and made them press it against his own wound. “You couldn’t stay back for once, could you?!”

“Watch your tongue, boy. You should be grateful,” Yakov rasped. “Go on, then. Leave this old man to lick his wounds. And maybe watch your bird a little better.”

Yuuri, who had landed at Victor’s side, scowled but tipped his head forward in clear gratitude. Victor had intended to slip the letter in his breast pocket to Freckles, but the commodore would work just as well. He took the envelope from the inside of his coat and slipped it into Yakov’s. “Don’t die on me again. Not before you give Lilia my gratitude, and my formal rejection of her offer. I think you can still find a far more suitable replacement. Sir.”

Yakov pushed Victor away, rising back onto his feet on his own. “If you manage to finish the fight you’ve started, Vitya, I’ll pass on the message.”

Smiling lightly, Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand and tugged him forward. One more step left to go. And again, he could see it. At the helm of the ship, dressed in a navy uniform that appeared a bit too big and yet looking far too proper, was the young master Ji.

“Ready, lovebird?”

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, where his fellow sirens were driving back the remaining ships as mers climbed up to the railings, pulling sailors from the decks. He squeezed Victor’s hand. “I trust you,” he said, thrusting out his wings and taking back to the sky to watch over Victor from above.

Victor blew Yuuri a kiss and then breathed in deeply, giving himself a single moment of calm. For sirens, for humans, for a balance restored, there would be no turning back now.

* * *

As much as Guang Hong wanted to believe that everything would work out for the better, he could not stop shaking. Not when all the ships in front of his own fell one by one, to siren claws, to fire, to maelstroms and murderous mers. It was every nightmare and the climax to each one of his books, clashing together. And as with any great climax, it came time for the hero to fell the villain. He just had never expected the role to fall to him, with Victor as his opponent.

Guang Hong braced himself, twisting his grip around the hilt of the sword he held, ready to defend himself against the pirate scourge. Victor made for an inspiring sight. His rose-colored captain’s coat suited him better than any clothing meant for a prince, and the sailors he did not fend off with his sword and his pistols were plucked from existence by the siren flying over him. That meant it was all the more stupid for Guang Hong to rush in, shouting out his nerves as he struck his blade against Victor’s.

The grin the pirate captain wore was beyond handsome. It was a shame that Guang Hong had never quite managed to shake off his crush. “P-pirate!” he accused, digging in his heels as he pushed forward.

“Freckles,” Victor greeted in return, deftlying side-stepping a jab. “To think you’d be the one.”

“Yeah.” Guang Hong was in as much disbelief himself. “I know.”

The striking of blades produced a harsh sound, and Guang Hong had to grit his teeth to bear it. Each blow sent vibrations through him, numbing his fingers. He knew he would not be able to hold his own against Victor for long.

“Why don’t you call a truce?” Guang Hong asked through a clenched jaw. “Stop this before more people die?”

“You know how the court works,” Victor replied. “How politics dictate. They’ll never stop coming after me as long as I’m alive, if there is no definite conclusion.”

“So define it!” Guang Hong demanded, falling back a step before darting forward.

“You’re actually not that bad at this,” Victor mused, even as he easily blocked strike after strike when they were levied against him. Guang Hong had seen him fighting on the other ships and yet Victor had yet to lose a single breath, while Guang Hong felt his own rib cage burning. “Did someone train you up that quickly?

“Learned from you,” Guang Hong gasped out. His arms were heavy, muscles straining with the unfamiliar weight of a sword and the pressure of fighting against Victor’s strength. “Well, from Silverlock. From Leo.” This was not how he had imagined testing out those skills.

“Your blacksmith friend. How is he?”

Cheeks flushing hot, Guang Hong stumbled back half a step, scrambling to regain his footing. “I kissed him.”

That appeared to genuinely surprise the pirate, who paused and laughed. “Good man.”

“Thanks. Was kinda spur of the moment.”

“I hope you keep that spark alive, then,” Victor bid and, with one elegant strike, hooked the sword from Guang Hong’s hand. It clattered to the deck, skidding far out of reach. Victor pointed the tip of his sword at Guang Hong, casting him a gentle smile. “One way or another.”

Guang Hong’s heart leapt into his throat, choking his breath, and panicked, he charged forward. He knocked away Victor’s hand and his shoulder collided with Victor’s sternum, winding the pirate. Using all of his strength and the advantage of mild shock, Guang Hong drove Victor back. Two, three, four steps, and Victor hit the starboard railing. Guang Hong grappled for the dagger on his belt, his fingers finding the hilt just as the ship was blasted by more cannonfire.

The ship buckled violently, pitching Guang Hong forward, his balance swept out from under him. Except he was not the only one.

“No—!” Guang Hong tried to grab onto Victor’s hand, but his fingers grasped at air instead.

Victor fell, thrown over the railing of the ship toward the brutal sea below.

A siren’s screech pierced the air and for a split second the blue and white flooding Guang Hong’s vision was filled with black as Yuuri plummeted to try and save his husband. He saw their fingers meet, and then they both hit the whirling waters.

No breath found Guang Hong’s lungs and his heart went as still as the rest of his surroundings. Gunfire quieted, as did the calls of siren voices, and the clanging of blades. All eyes had turned to the sea, the fighting halted as Victor and Yuuri failed to return to the surface.

Guang Hong would have expected the pirates to drop their weapons and for the sirens to return to their perches atop their ship’s masts. Instead, a frenzy ensued. He had to drop to his knees, clasping his arms over his head as the shrieks of sirens fractured the air. Wood exploded as sirens bombarded the ships still pressing on.

As navy sailors tried desperately to fight off the attacks, Yakov came charging up onto the ship’s helm.

“You fools! Did you not see?! The pirate Nikiforov is dead!” The commodore’s roar drowned out even the sirens. “We yield! The Queen’s navy yields!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter Sixteen Art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/617860830962253824/art-art-art-yuri-catch-your-man-to-fin-out)


	17. At Peace

The warmth of spring brought flowers to life and spurred the trill of birdsong from the thicket of the trees. Nearby, a manuka tree was in bloom and birds flitted around it, drinking the nectar of the blossoms and perching on branches. They had only just seen the sprouts of the garden that had been planted in rich soil, but by peak summer at least a few of the herbs they had received from Hiroko should be ready to be made into medicines. Yet even now, the sweetness of maturing mango fruits filled the air.

Under the canopy that Yuuri had woven for them by the fine white sand of the eastern shore, Victor tucked new silks around the nest they had built together. It was a little strange, getting used to the full habits of a siren lifestyle, but as Yuuri had adapted to life on the ship, Victor was more than happy to adjust to life on a siren’s island.

His eyes kept flickering toward the blue of the sky, watching for his mate. Victor had finished clearing away the molted feathers Yuuri had left behind, still finding it all too cute that Yuuri sneezed and hissed at his own feathers as he shed them for the incoming colors of spring.

As soon as Yuuri’s new feathers had come in, he had been eager to spread his wings and take to the clouds, filling them with the air he had so missed while molting. He had looked conflicted, though, unable to decide whether he wanted to fly more or tend to his mate. Victor had made the decision for him, making the point that as soon as Yuuri returned, it would be likely that they would not be leaving the comfort of their nest for at least a couple of days.

In the weeks since the battle off the shore of the capital, Victor and Yuuri had settled into their quiet life away from the trade routes favored by the Queen’s ships. Well, Victor supposed it would very soon be the King’s ships. The news that came to them was sparse, but it was enough that the guilt that had come with their escape did not weigh heavily. The pirate Nikiforov was dead and would stay dead, ensuring the truce that had been called between the navy and the sirens.

It was difficult to imagine the kind of chaos that would have flooded the royal court, as they pushed to crown a new ruler, driven by Lilia’s approval and the siren whispers that would have spread, undetected. As far as Victor had heard, the approaching coronation of Guang Hong Ji had been met with revelry. A young, kind noble who had felled a maddened siren and defeated a dreaded pirate. What loyal citizen would oppose the nomination of such a hero to lead the empire to a new era of peace? What was more, he had the respect of the sirens themselves, as well as the pirates that had supported them.

As nervous as Freckles had been when agreeing to the plan, Victor hoped he would be satisfied with his new adventure. He had already caused controversy, it seemed, by pardoning all of the pirate crew and even appointing one of their members as ambassador to the sirens. Minami would have, of course, been thrilled.

Any truce between sirens and humans would remain tentative and uneasy, but the agreement was that as long as humans did not pursue sirens or threaten their nests, sirens would give passage to ships flying the royal flag. How long it would last, only time would tell. The hope was that the calm would be more satisfying than the risk of renewed war. The life of a pirate had been a grand one, but now Victor longed for nothing more than long and languid days spent in the company of his mate.

And thinking of his life and love, Victor’s heart leapt when he heard the sweet chirring notes of a siren’s call. Yuuri came bursting from between the clouds, the iridescence of his mating season wings brilliant against the blue of the sky and the sea.

The triplets, who had been following Victor around the island, excitedly soared to greet him. Mari had delivered them to the island a couple of weeks after Victor and Yuuri had been pulled from the whirlpool by the mers, the gold and gems given as bribes to them well spent. Victor did continue to chuckle over the fact that, midway through their underwater disappearing act, Yuuri had made them switch mers, unhappy with the pleased expression of the one who had been passing oxygen to Victor. He trusted Phichit to not try and steal his mate, but was more suspicious of the other pretty mer that kept flashing its shiny fins a bit too much.

Victor walked out onto the beach, holding his arms out and catching Yuuri as he swooped in, laughing as Yuuri churred against his lips. “Welcome home, lovebird,” Victor said, spinning Yuuri around and kissing him with wholehearted joy. “How was your flight?”

“I missed you,” Yuuri breathed out with a tone of desperation, as if he had been away for more than a few hours. He wound his arms around Victor’s neck and nuzzled in. “Can I dance for you now?”

“Only if you promise to do both versions,” Victor teased, carrying Yuuri to where he could dance in comfort.

As soon as he was set down, Yuuri churred with gratitude and gave his tush a shake. It was all Victor could do to keep himself from flipping up Yuuri’s robes in excitement as tail feathers sprouted from underneath the once-again bejeweled fabric.

“Is that all I get?”

“I’ll make you laugh later,” Yuuri promised, pushing Victor gently back toward their nest and skimming a kiss across his cheeks before pulling back.

With his bare feet half-buried in the soft, warm sand, Yuuri spread open his wings and began to dance. The sun sparked off his feathers, making the speckles of color glitter as he serenaded Victor through his graceful movements. As if he couldn’t enthrall Victor simply by existing. Then, as Yuuri started to sing with the notes of his ethereal voice echoing off the gentle waves, Victor found himself being drawn into him.

Unable to take his eyes off Yuuri, Victor laced their fingers together, their wedding rings glinting in the light, and joined Yuuri in his courting dance. They kicked up sand, twirling to the edge of the sea and back, singing against each other’s parted lips. When the song faded into the sounds of birds and the ocean, they fell into the nest together, relishing the private comfort of their island home.

And as they finally indulged in the start of a proper mating season, they whispered words of love to one another while Yuuri’s fingers curled into Victor’s growing silver hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Final Art](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/619857829660147712/siren-yuri-finally-enjoying-time-with-victor-3)
> 
> Thank you to all who sailed on this journey with us.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](lucycamui.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lucycamui), both @lucycamui.


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